


The Palace Guard

by rthstewart



Series: Golden Age Stories [3]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Golden Age (Narnia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 08:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 49,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1339264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthstewart/pseuds/rthstewart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I promise to never cause you harm and to protect you from all ill and danger.<br/>I give you loyalty with love, respect with fealty, and discretion with honour.<br/>I place my body, mind and heart in service to you.<br/>I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends.<br/>-Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wrasse

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from fanfiction.net
> 
> The Palace Guard flows from a prominent feature in By Royal Decree and also discussed in flashbacks in The Stone Gryphon. Those stories introduced the Good Beasts of the Palace Guard and the Night Guard. By Royal Decree was written prior to The Palace Guard; however By Royal Decree but is actually set chronologically 3 years after this story.
> 
> Rated T for some off screen violence, potty-mouthed Otters and very oblique discussions of bonding, mating, and parenting systems in Kingdom Animalia, Phylum Chordata, Class Mammalia.
> 
> Still not King. Still don't own any of this. With gratitude and admiration to the creator of The Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis. I claim no ownership interest whatsoever in any derivative fiction I write, and never have. Any original content in my derivative fiction is in the public domain and may be used freely and without notice to me or attribution.

 

 _The Palace Guard_ _  
_Chapter 1 - Wrasse_ _

* * *

_I promise to never cause you harm and to protect you from all ill and danger._   
_I give you loyalty with love, respect with fealty, and discretion with honour._  
 _I place my body, mind and heart in service to you._  
 _I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends._  
 _-Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs_

* * *

"Now, Bree," he said, "you poor, proud, frightened Horse, draw near. Nearer still, my son. Do not dare not to dare. Touch me. Smell me. Here are my paws, here is my tail, these are my whiskers. I am a true Beast." _The Horse and His Boy_ , Aslan to Bree.

**_In Year 2, Golden Age_ **

* * *

_Should have, should have, should have. Should have seen it. Should have predicted it. Should have trusted our Beast instincts. Should have prevented it._

But for the grace of Aslan, High King Peter, Queen Susan, and King Edmund were not dead.

Wrasse lashed her black tail. There was no excuse and it was beyond unpardonable.

Her Panther perceptions had told her something was off. The He-Wolf, Lambert, had sensed it as well. Humans, though, were still new to them, regrettably. The unfamiliarity notwithstanding, she and Lambert had both felt there had been _something wrong_ about _something_ in that Island group of Humans, in those last moment additions to the delegation. To her and Lambert's everlasting regret, neither of them had been able to name the source of the unease and had not trusted what instinct had told them.

To Beasts, it was simply impossible for murderous intent to hide in a seemingly innocuous appearance and manner. One Beast would always sense what one of its own kind intended. Plainly, it was all too easy for one human to deceive another.

Should have, should have, should have.

 _Aslan, I thank you_ , the Panther whispered for the hundredth time that day. _Our Guard will not fail again_.

She turned about in her pacing the front of the locked doors of the Council Room. Master Roblang, the Red Dwarf Sergeant at Arms, and Pliny, the Centaur sage, were approaching. Wrasse heard their low voices and smelled them and their anxiety long before she saw them. Intellectually, she knew they were loyal; both had served at Beruna and faithfully in the year since. Still, she felt the prickle of alarm stir in her again, for both Dwarf and Centaur had that uncertain gloss of not-Beast. In that not-Beast quality, Wrasse had now decided, there could dwell something she now labeled as deceit.

Instinctively, Wrasse growled, blocking the door. Lowering to a crouch, she felt her hair rise on her back. As Centaur and Dwarf turned the corner, they slowed and approached her cautiously, as well they should.

They were both armed; Pliny had a long knife, Roblang, a short sword. Trusted though they were, Wrasse was not going to permit any not-Beast in the Monarchs' presence with a weapon. She was not sure if she would ever permit it ever again.

"Hold, Friend Wrasse," Pliny said calmly. "We will disarm." The Centaur slowly removed his knife from the sheath strapped across his chest. "Roblang?" he said, in a way that was both a polite request and an order if the Red Dwarf had been in Pliny's chain of command, which he was not.

"Arms Sergeant without arms?" Roblang grumbled.

Wrasse growled again. "You have arms," she reminded him. "It is weapons you may not bear in the presence of our Kings and Queens."

Red Dwarf and Centaur both complied, setting their knife and sword to the side of the heavy doors. Wrasse circled about them, inhaling deeply, touching both with her whiskers, letting her tail slide against her fellow Narnians. Her inspection was more than scent, touch, and sight; she wanted to feel these two, and allow her Cat instinct to guide her. She did not trust the not-Beast in them because that was where the malice and duplicity had hidden from her. In fairness, though, as she circled, she did not sense any wrongness. Worry and concern they both projected surely, but no ill intent.

"What is the mood of the Four?" Pliny asked as Wrasse wove between them.

"Frightened, I should think," Roblang said, holding his arms out so Wrasse could touch him with her nose and whiskers.

"Not at all, Master," Wrasse corrected. "Our Monarchs are very, very angry." She stopped circling and growled through the door. "Master Pliny and Master Roblang, your Majesties."

They heard the lock click from the inside, or she did anyway. It was King Edmund on the other side of the door. As she had instructed him, once he had unbolted the door, he moved away, further from her perception, with Merle following. Only after they were away did Wrasse push the door open. She went in first, permitting Pliny and Roblang to follow her, but interposing her body between them and those in the room.

Wrasse made Centaur and Dwarf stop behind her as she took in the mood of the conference. There was a large table and she perceived, but could not see, the High King and the Queen Susan at the far end. The reason was that Lambert was crouched on top of the table, blocking her view of the seated Monarchs.

Her nostrils flared with the stench of blood – drying Wolf blood seeping through the bandage wrapping Lambert's side, the faint odor of Queen Susan's and King Peter's blood, Human, and each very distinct. The High King and Queen both had their hands and arms wrapped from the knife wounds they had taken defending themselves from their desperate assassins. Queen Lucy sat at Peter's right hand, her child's young body seething, eyes still bright with angry tears she had been shedding on and off all day. King Edmund was edging along the wall, wary and angrier still, followed closely by the Boarhound, Merle. Jalur, the sullen Tiger detailed from his Soldier duties to temporary Guard, blinked at her from a corner of the room.

"Jalur, please take my place at the door," Wrasse instructed him. "Let no one else approach until we have finished."

"Your Majesties," Jalur murmured, by way of a formal farewell, and stalked out of the room. Roblang shut the door as the Tiger left, and the clink of the lock rang overloud in Wrasse's ears.

"Master Roblang, sit please," came the High King's voice from behind the crouching Wolf. "Master Pliny, please be at your ease."

Pliny's clopping hooves echoed in the silent, tense chamber as he slowly walked forward to stand at the table's edge. Centaurs didn't sit. Roblang took a seat next to him in one of the Dwarf-proportioned chairs.

Wrasse jumped up on to the table, seeing why Lambert had chosen it. It gave a good vantage for leaping and permitted her to place her body between any intruder and the sitting Monarchs. She trusted Merle to handle the defense of King Edmund. The Hound had shoved the King's would-be attacker out the tower window. _And may the dumb crows feed on the broken body_ , she thought savagely.

"Lambert, Wrasse, we thank you for your vigilance," Queen Susan said. "But we do wish to be able to see our _other_ loyal subjects as well."

Lambert growled his disagreement.

"Lambert," Queen Susan countered firmly. "The errors of the past will not be remedied by overly zealous caution now. We have trusted Friends Roblang and Pliny with our lives before. We called them here because we trust them still."

Wrasse might have disagreed with that, but the High King was already saying "Thank you, Friends," with such quiet authority, she backed up reflexively in response, automatically wishing to obey. She turned her body so that she could observe and sense, but would not block their Majesties' visual contact with Pliny and Roblang. Lambert mirrored her movements on the other side of the table.

"Have you reviewed Wrasse's recommendations?" High King Peter asked.

"We have," Roblang said gruffly, speaking for them both. "We have some concerns, but they can be overcome."

Speaking in his low, measured voice, Pliny added, "We deplore the circumstances that have necessitated this but we agree that assigning a permanent personal Guard to each of you is necessary for your safety and the security of Narnia."

There were relieved nods and a sense of acceptance from all, save one. With a cry of fury, Queen Lucy bolted out of her seat. "I hate this! I'm not going to do it! I'm not going everywhere with a guard!" The Queen ran around the table, fumbled with the lock and threw open the door. Skirting around the startled Tiger, she flew down the hall, out of sight in moments.

"Go, Jalur!" Wrasse called to the Tiger. Wrasse could still hear Queen Lucy's bare feet flying across the stone as she ran. "Guard the Queen!"

The Tiger spun around and disappeared.

King Edmund followed Merle to the door, closing and locking it again. "Perhaps a Cheetah for my sister?" he asked, grinning a little.

"Cheetahs neither climb nor swim well, and do not have the endurance to travel great distances at speed," Pliny said. His flank shuddered at a passing fly. "Thus, Cheetahs may be a poor choice for our Valiant Queen." Pliny spoke so dryly, the Kings and Queen laughed, a small break in the brittle tension.

Looking directly at Wrasse, the Centaur sage said gravely, "Wrasse, we fully support you, but finding suitable Guard to suit each of our Monarchs among the Beasts alone will be a difficult task."

Wrasse flicked an ear and settled back on the table. "I know it, Master."

* * *

 

"You suggest a guard at all time?" the High King had asked, as Wrasse laid out her plan. Again.

"Yes," she repeated. Again. The High King and Queen Susan had requested this private audience with her after the meeting. She had wanted to dismiss Lambert, but the He-Wolf would have none of it. His trailing of Queen Susan was more akin to a lap dog, than to a Wolf. Lambert would take the comparison ill and so she did not mention it.

"A personal Guard shall accompany you always, when you travel, when you go on the road, in the Palace, on the grounds, everywhere. There may be others about you, of course, and usually will be, such as escorts, Palace staff, and soldiers. This personal Guard, however, is for you alone, reportable and accountable only to you and with no other responsibility save your protection."

"The term we use is 'bodyguard,'" the High King said. "What about when we are called to battle?"

"That may be one point at which a personal Guard would not be necessary; however, I believe trying to carve out exceptions may undermine the purpose."

"I agree, Wrasse," Queen Susan said, shifting her bandaged arms. The Queen was in more pain than the High King, though she hid it well. "Best to begin with a broad policy, and as we become accustomed to it, we may modify it later."

"I further recommend that we have the Dwarfs disable locks on the rooms, save the treasure and coin stores, and perhaps the Council Room." Not having to break through a locked door had allowed Merle to save King Edmund's life.

"Even in our private rooms and bed chambers?" King Peter asked.

"Especially there, High King," Wrasse said firmly. "When you are at your ease is when you are most vulnerable."

"Even when we sleep, or bathe?" King Peter said this with a frown, creasing toward worry.

"A Guard ... _always_?" Queen Susan finished with emphasis and an increasing concern similar to that of her brother.

"Yes." Something of this new arrangement seemed to be bothersome to both Monarchs. Wrasse wished that they would speak more plainly if that were the case. She reminded herself that they were both Human and young and sent a silent prayer to Aslan for patience and wisdom.

Tentatively she asked, "Are you worried about having a Beast in your private quarters and otherwise with you always?"

They both looked at the other, perhaps communicating silently as Humans sometimes seemed to do, and then nodded. Wrasse considered this, thinking it actually a bit silly. Yet, her King and Queen did not, and so she was obligated to aid them in this difficult time as best as she was able. "Assuming we can assure ourselves that your rooms are secure from outside attack, I do not believe it will be necessary to have a Guard physically with you at all times."

"Yet, you said we are most vulnerable there?" Queen Susan asked.

"Understand My King and Queen that for Beasts of certain sensitivities, we can hear, sense, and smell you regardless. We do not need to see you to know you are safe. That better hearing and scenting is why we are insisting upon Beasts, rather than your other good subjects as personal Guards."

King Peter and Queen Susan both were surprised with this, she felt. They had certainly grasped quickly how to best use to tactical advantage the innate abilities of all their subjects. Perhaps they had not fully considered that these fundamental attributes in their Good Beast subjects had relevance even in more personal and intimate ways.

Queen Susan giggled, a little, though she was nervous, not happy. "So, we can expect to never have privacy?"

Wrasse needed to understand Humans better. She understood solitary Beasts such as the Great Cats and Bears. She also understood their opposite, the social, pack and herd Beasts, like the Dogs, Wolves, Horses, and Deer. To this latter category, Humans certainly belonged. Yet, Humans also wished for _privacy_? Why would a social or pack Beast seek _privacy_? In fact, a social Beast was insecure in the absence of his or her herd. This _privacy_ seemed very strange. Perhaps one of the Red Dwarfs might be able to explain what it meant to her.

"Su, Wrasse is saying is that we actually do not have any privacy now. This Palace Guard arrangement just makes it formal, with clear orders and responsibility, so there's never an opening to exploit."

"That is it exactly, High King," she told them. "From this point onward each of you shall have a Guard and this Beast shall never go beyond the range at which he or she may perceive you. How personally close the Beast will be will depend upon the perceiving of the Beast."

Lambert added in his sonorous, growling voice, "You may not see us, but we will be there. We will _always_ be there."

Queen Susan smiled at the He-Wolf and Wrasse thought that at least the elder Queen's Guard was assured. A big dog with bigger teeth would do, she supposed, if that was what the Queen wished.

King Peter let out a breath of tense air and then laughed, more heartfelt. "Well, Su, it will be strange having someone under foot at every turn, but I suppose we'll get accustomed to all this, eventually."

"Circumstances may change, Peter," Queen Susan said, though Wrasse could tell she didn't really believe it.

"That is all, Wrasse, thank you," King Peter said.

It was a dismissal, which meant that the High King did not yet fully appreciate what had transpired.

"Begging your Pardon, High King," Wrasse corrected gently, "but you may not dismiss me. I am your Palace Guard until you select a permanent one."

* * *

To follow:  
 **Chapter 2, Lambert and His Queen**


	2. Lambert and his Queen

_**The Palace Guard** _ **_  
_**Chapter 2 - Lambert and His Queen** **

_I promise to never cause you harm and to protect you from all ill and danger._ _  
_First line of Guard's Oath sworn to Narnian Monarch_ _

**_In Year 2, Golden Age_ **

* * *

Lambert rose as High King Peter and Wrasse left the meeting room, feeling aches join the pain. He had both done too much and now been stationary for too long. The Physician was going to scold him and Briony would snarl. Nothing for it, though. _May this wound always remind me to never give trust too easily._

He turned his head as Queen Susan rose from her own seat. "You are in greater pain than you admit, Friend," she said softly.

"As are you, Queen Susan."

She nodded and sagged a little, admitting to him what he had heard her deny to the High King only moments ago. _How strange that I can sense in her what another Human, even her own brother, cannot._

"May I help you down from the table?" she asked.

He growled a little at that solicitous and, he deemed, unnecessary accommodation. Stiffly, he walked to the table's edge and looked down at the tiled floor. It would be a hard landing. With a protesting scrape of wood on marble, Queen Susan pushed a chair over to where he stood, allowing him to span the distance in two stages, rather than one leap.

"Thank you," he admitted reluctantly.

Still, Lambert snarled with the pain in his side as he dropped even the lesser distance to the floor.

"I apologize, Queen Susan," he huffed out, recovering his breath. A knife wound was not an experience he wished to repeat. Fortunately, the knife had broken on his ribs before piercing anything vital, and a moment later Lambert had near ripped the attacker's head from his neck. He could still smell the Human's blood in his fur and taste it in his mouth. It was foul beyond words and made him wonder how his own Wolf kind could have ever hunted humans.

"No apologies, ever, Lambert, for injuries so bravely taken and in my defense." The Queen spoke gently, but there was strength too, of the sort in tree roots, winds, and tides. "Will you walk with me, Friend?"

"I will."

They walked together slowly, more carefully than either might do otherwise, each nursing injury. To Lambert, it seemed that Queen Susan took a meandering path through the Palace, the length of the floors, down and up the staircases, through all the public spaces. It was aimless only until he realized that she was purposefully seeking out to greet every Good Beast and Creature. She did this despite her own weariness, making smiling and heroic efforts to reassure all of Cair Paravel that their Gentle Queen was well and whole despite the day's dreadful events.

After accepting the good wishes from Mr. Hoberry, the Faun, and some blinking, confused Moles in the Gardens, Lambert finally said, "You don't fool the Beasts, you know. They sense your injuries, even if the others do not."

"Then we should wait to discuss this further when we are alone, shouldn't we, my Good Wolf?"

Eventually and ever more slowly, together they made their way toward the stream, north of the Palace. The path here was deliberate as well, for there was a Beech grove between lawn and water, and many Dryads to embrace. The Naiads of the stream as well needed to see and speak with their Queen.

At last, Queen Susan carefully lowered herself to the ground at the water's edge. She struggled with her foot coverings, slippers and stockings, Lambert remembered they were called. With her awkward and oozing bandages, it was slow, painful work to remove them.

With a sigh, she finally said, "Lambert, I very much wish to soak my feet in the Lady's stream. Could you please help me?"

Warily, he approached. What she asked would require very close contact. "I do not have hands to aid you, Queen Susan."

"No? You do not keep a spare pair hidden in your ruff?" Holding out her sore, bloodied hands, she said, "I would use my own teeth to remove my stockings, but cannot reach that far. Would you?"

"Queen Susan, would you trust a Wolf to do such a thing?"

"I did not ask any Wolf; I asked you, Friend." She smiled again, and it was not in his heart to refuse her anything.

Gingerly, he bent and took the scrap covering her foot in his teeth. The scent of his Queen, so close, was nearly overwhelming in its immediacy. She was hiding her pain from everyone else, yet allowing him to see it and share its burden. Beneath that peaceful, gracious countenance she was angry and sad and even a little frightened, and determined to show nothing save confidence and assurance. Here was duplicity of an altogether different sort than the murderous one that would have taken her from Narnia. It made him want to dig up the corpse of the assassin who had done this to her and rip it to pieces.

Lambert gently pulled the scrap from his Queen's foot, as gently as if lifting a talking Fledging from the ground who had fallen from her nest.

Shifting uncomfortably and with a hiss of pain, Queen Susan proffered the other foot. Lambert removed that stocking as well and deposited both at her side. "Thank you," she breathed with relief and eased her feet into the stream

Lambert took a step forward and plunged his muzzle into the cool, clear water, willing away the defilement of the flesh still stinking his breath. It felt grossly wrong to be so close to Queen Susan with such violence still clinging to him. He drank deeply.

"Thank you, Lady," he finally said to the Naiad, and perceived in the water a happy face with swirling hair. Raising his head, Lambert tested the area carefully, with nose and ear.

"I sense no Beasts or other Creatures close, save the Dryads," Lambert told her.

"Friend Trees!" Queen Susan called. "I ask to be alone with my Wolf Friend. Will you leave us please?

With sighs of their own, the Dryad Trees about them shifted and began moving away.

"Lady Naiad," Lambert said to the stream. "Your Queen wishes privacy."

He could not see the colours shift, but the hair swirled into the water and the pattern moved downstream.

Lambert raised his nose again, swiveling ears and head about, straining to catch any remaining whisper. "To the extent one can be alone in Narnia, we are, Queen Susan,"

The Queen turned to face him, and put her hand on his head.

He immediately dropped his head to avoid looking her in the eye, hunched his body, and bent his neck in offering to her.

"I'm sorry," she said with uncertainty, withdrawing her hand. "Have I done something wrong?"

"No," Lambert said, still looking away, and crouching down lower still; it was going to hurt if he rolled on to his back. "Wolf language differs from your own. I am acknowledging your authority."

"Oh." She put her hands in her lap; the blood would stain the outer clothes she wore. The smell would probably always be there.

Lambert unwound from his submissive posture as she splashed her feet in the stream, flicking drops across the surface. "We will need to become better accustomed to each other if you become my Guard."

"I am not worthy for that, Queen Susan." He wished it were otherwise, for he wanted very much to savage any who might seek to harm the Gentle Queen. Guilt had nagged him since the attack.

"None of that, Lambert." Again there was that astounding steel he sensed in her, as strong as the High King's own sword. "You _told_ me something was amiss. If I had listened, this might not have happened as it had."

"I didn't know what it was I sensed," he whined miserably. "I couldn't name it."

"But you can now, correct?"

"Yes," Lambert was forced to admit. The sudden clarity when he connected his unease with the Human's deception was one he would remember until the day he crossed to Aslan's own Country. "Still, Queen Susan, you might have died for my error."

"Not your error alone," the Queen said firmly. "There were many errors that compounded, one on the other, to bring this about."

The logic of that, he could not refute.

"I would hope," the Queen continued, "that you and I would grow older and wiser together."

He raised his head, but when she tried to look at him, again, he had to avert his gaze.

"Wolf language?" she asked.

"Yes."

Avoiding her eyes, he again scanned the area. There were some birds about, Dumb though, and some Talking Squirrels. The Squirrels were further away, and arguing heatedly about nuts. There were always arguing about nuts. If not nuts, they argued about pine cones.

"There is one thing which makes me hesitate in asking you to serve as my Guard, Lambert."

Lambert now stared at her feet still in the water, thinking he could guess the source of her reluctance. He had heard the tale later of how the High King won his spurs slaying Maugrim, but not before the Witch's Wolf Captain had nearly pulled Queen Susan from the tree she had climbed by her dangling leg.

"My kind did serve _her_ ," he admitted, not able to stop the growl of disgust and the hair that automatically rose every time he thought of the base betrayals.

"But you did not, Lambert. And serving as my Guard would show all Narnia that We do not judge a whole race based upon the mistakes of individuals."

Queen Susan made that royal _We_ very clear, even to those with ears less sensitive than his own.

"No, Friend, what makes me hesitate to ask so much of you is your new Mate, Briony."

 _Oh. Yes, there is that_. Lambert was still not quite used to considering the wishes of his Mate in what had before been his decisions alone.

"I would ask that you discuss it with her. You will, I think, be with me more than with your Mate, if this works as it is intended. Briony would never refuse her Monarchs anything, and so this places her in a difficult position. As her loss of your steady companionship is to my gain, I would wish her blessing."

A breeze brought something to his nose; Lambert swiveled an ear in that direction. He caught the whiff of smug female Cat, Cheetah specifically.

"Dalia approaches, Queen Susan."

The Queen looked about, up and down the stream bank and, shielding her eyes, stared through the trees lining the path they had taken. "I do not see her yet."

"Nor do I," he replied. "Still, the Cheetah comes."

"I now see another advantage to you as my Guard, Lambert. Please always give such notice, if you would."

The Cheetah appeared on the path, a swinging walk, tail high. It was the confident gait of a dominant, solitary, female Cat. Lambert had been spending a lot of time with them lately and was finding their haughty ways irritating.

Dalia bowed her head, bending one front leg. "Queen Susan, Lambert."

"Good day, Friend. What is it?"

"Wrasse has asked me to relieve Lambert, your Majesty, so that he may rest."

Lambert growled. "I will certainly not be relieved!"

Foolish Cats. They always acted with such conceited superiority. Yes, Wrasse's idea for the Guard was a sound one; but a Canine would have thought of it as well. Now Wrasse would seek on that basis to order him about even though he was not in her chain of command.

"Thank you, Dalia."

Lambert looked at Queen Susan. She seemed content and accepting of this change. Why? Perhaps she would in the end rather have a Beast that was not of the same kind that had tried to murder her? Perhaps a Cheetah would serve her better. Lambert growled again. _Not if I have anything to say about it. I'll give that Panther a piece of my mind_.

"Lambert?"

He looked up at his smiling Queen. "What Wrasse and Dalia say, notwithstanding, _I_ excuse you only temporarily. Relieved of duty for the moment, you will recover all the sooner and then rejoin me as _My_ chosen Guard."

 _Oh_. "Yes, my Queen."

"Go to your Mate and give her the news. I shall then inform Wrasse and Master Roblang of _Our_ decision."

There was no mistaking the royalty in that tone. Dalia's ears flicked and she blinked her understanding as well.

Though there was no way the Cheetah could misapprehend their Queen's Order, Lambert asserted his Guard's prerogative and authority. Rising tall, swiveling his ears forward, tail high, he let his hackles bristle. He was not going to be usurped by a Cat.

"Cheetah, I cede my Guard only provisionally, and only because _my_ Queen requests it."

To his Queen, he bowed, and went with good heart to follow her command.

* * *

To follow:

Chapter 3, Double Income, No Pups


	3. Double Income, No Pups

**The Palace Guard** **  
**Chapter 3, Double Income, No Pups** **

_I give you loyalty with love, respect with fealty, and discretion with honour._ _  
_Second Line of the Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs_ _

**_In Year 2, Golden Age_ **

Briony, She-Wolf, stalked out of The Tree, stiff legged, head and tail high, communicating clearly to any who saw her that she was also a Beast to be reckoned with. _I've just about had enough of those Felines._

Wrasse was not her Captain. Dalia was not her Captain. She'd had to leave or she would have lost her temper completely, and an angry Wolf in the Cat House that was The Tree, well, it simply wasn't worth the fuss. She was not going to do anything to dim the light shining upon her Mate, Lambert. Nor were the growls and angry words with the Felines worth the night watch duty she would pull for a month when the Dwarf who was her Captain heard of her lack of self-control.

Recognizing a Feline power grab when she saw one, it was better to just get out. It wasn't her concern. Wrasse was a hero today, deservedly so, but Briony wasn't going to tolerate the politely snide comments from the Cats that denigrated the Canine contribution either. Merle and Lambert both were heroes as well, and her Mate had the knife wound in his side to show for it, a Jaguar's snippiness about dogs not dodging fast enough notwithstanding.

She wondered if she should stop at The Yard for a meal. No, she would wait. Lambert would need to feed, and might need her encouragement to do so.

Briony further decided to neglect to check the duty roster in the barracks. She wasn't supposed to be on call tonight, though with the attacks of that morning, it was likely the Masters and Captains were juggling assignments and dealing with this Guard business. If they needed her, they knew where to find her, and with Lambert on injured reserve, it was likely they'd give his and her rotations to others for a little while. _Maybe double shifts for a week or two will bring those Cats down a limb or two._

The Cave where the Canines kept their Dens was quiet and completely Feline-free. There was no need to go into the Den she and Lambert had made their home; she knew from the smells he wasn't back yet from attending Queen Susan.

She waited just long enough to think that perhaps she should go looking for him when his scent drifted up from the path to Cair Paravel. Briony raced down the hill to greet her Mate. How he _reeked_.

"I know," Lambert said wearily, accepting her snuffling greeting. "It's the assassin's blood."

"Not just that," she murmured, pushing up against his uninjured side that she might support him up the hill. "Queen Susan as well and…" Briony inhaled and then growled. "What was Dalia doing with you? I'd barely left her and Wrasse at the Tree."

Lambert huffed, "Later, my Lady." With his nose, he pointed up at a Crow perched in a tree, intently observing their every word and action. "You there! Get gone. They'll be no gossip about us, hear me?"

The Crow made a rude pfbbbht sound, but, incredibly, did fly off.

_By the Lion, what had happened that a Crow obeyed Lambert? That Lambert felt he could order a Crow?_

_Unless…_

She whimpered, questioningly, nuzzling his ears, and caught the whiff of his unspoken assent.

Briony managed to keep her excitement at bay until they were within the privacy of their own Den, in the deepest recesses of the bedchamber. Only there did Lambert finally collapse. She began licking him clean in earnest. The taste was as foul as the stench; she would do what she could to at least replace the odour with her own good, clean scent. She could bathe tomorrow; Lambert wouldn't be able to do so until his wound healed more.

"So," he murmured, eyes half-closed, "I am instructed by Queen Susan to ask for your blessing so that I might serve as her Guard."

Whimpering again, with excitement, pride, and pleasure, it was all nearly too much. Briony had to shake her head to clear it. "First, congratulations to you, My Heart, for earning such a great trust and honour."

He grunted. "Thank you. I wish it had been done without the knife, but so be it."

"Second, neither you nor our Queen needs my approval, of course. I am honoured to be the Mate of a Guard."

Lambert sighed as she continued to lick the fur about his neck and shoulders. The remains of the blood were very powerful here.

"And Dalia?" she asked, curious as to what the Cat had been up to.

"She and Wrasse must have agreed for her to seek Queen Susan. To _relieve_ me, if you can believe it." He growled and she nuzzled him more earnestly. "She was too late, though. My Queen had already made her choice and no Cat was going to move her."

"I shouldn't think so," Briony said indignantly between licks, now on his ears and face, making him cleaner, conferring her scent on him. His sighs and grunts were softer now, more relaxed, his eyes fully closed.

"They are still working it all out," he muttered. "It's likely I'll be at Cair more, or, when the time comes, on the road with Queen Susan."

Pausing. "Yes, of course," she agreed, considering the ramifications. "That makes sense. Especially now. Things are very unsettled."

As she continued her work, Lambert slowly released his anxiety, his breathing and scent becoming more relaxed. "Lambert?" she asked tentatively.

"Mhhhmmmm," he mumbled.

"I feel this means we should wait on a litter, though."

He growled a little, but with no anger, just a sort of weary of acceptance.

"You've thought that too?"

With another deep sigh he opened his eyes. "Yes," Lambert admitted. "Even before this new duty called. With all the fighting against _her_ remnants, I did wonder if we could both really leave the Army for so long. I'd heard the Kings discussing it with the General, and I understand the long range strategy calls for another year of this business."

_A year. So long, yet, when measured against a 100 years, and more, not so much._

With a heavy paw, Lambert pinned her down, returning her ministrations with his own, and more enthusiastically than she would have expected given his injury and exhaustion. She rumbled contentedly, but would permit it only for the moment. Her Mate was too weary for play and her needs could wait.

"I consider this a great sacrifice to Narnia on _my_ part," he said, roused enough for his dry humour to return.

"My sacrifice as well!" she added, thumping her tail on the floor of their cushioned bedchamber. It was to have been her first season they would have enjoyed as a Bonded Pair. Instead of being in seclusion with Lambert, she'd be somewhere else for the time, alone, with other female Wolves, or some other Beasts. This was not how she'd wanted to spend it _at all_.

"My first season with you, and I get to spend it with _Cats._ " She allowed herself that bit of complaining regret.

"No other Wolf comes near you, hear me?" This growl was quite, but needlessly, aggressive.

"Oh hush you. Of course not. I'm no Songbird."

She pushed him back, gently, and her Mate collapsed into the soft bedding with a grumbling, discontented, and resigned, sigh.

This was duty. Other desires could wait.

"Quiet now, my Heart. Sleep and heal. I'll guard your rest."

* * *

Morning was creeping over the Trees, the Sun beginning to warm the grass. The Songbirds had been praising their own virtues to each other for some time. Briony was warm and comfortable, snugged up against Lambert, he resting heavily against her. Her Mate was still soundly asleep, acceding to the exhaustion that only comes from bone weary tiredness and the confidence that he was safe enough to give in fully to the fatigue. She nuzzled him carefully, scenting, with particular care to his wound. It was not any warmer than it should be; she did not sense any nascent infection. A little blood, but nothing too concerning. He would be sore when he awoke, and ravenous, which they would need to address very soon.

She would be proud to escort him to The Yard. Lambert would certainly enjoy a remarkable increase in prestige, both as defender of the Queen Susan yesterday and now as her Guard today. The other Canines would give him the deference he deserved, and had earned; that prestige would reflect on her as well. Overall, it was quite a change from their status as relatively junior Canines.

Yesterday, they were but Soldiers, common Wolves, constantly looked at with suspicion and fear for what some of their kind had done. Today, her Mate guarded one the Four.

Briony eased out from his welcome weight, and quietly crept from their bed to the main living space in the Den. She stretched, scratched, took a nice long drink, and went outside, to guard her Mate's sleep and take a good sniff of what Aslan's Creation had for her today.

Master Roblang, the Red Dwarf arms master was huffing up the hill.

She stood, head alert, tail wagging to greet her friend and Captain. "Good Morning, Master! Or should I say Good Evening still?" At first, she thought he was up early; in fact, he'd not been to bed, judging from the irritated fatigue radiating off of him waves.

Grunting, Roblang gave her perfunctory bow and then collapsed on the ground in a tired heap. "Morning, Lady. Lambert still sleeping it off?"

"He is, and I'll not have him disturbed just yet."

"Nor I, Briony. Tales will be told long after we're gone of your Mate's sense and bravery yesterday," Roblang said stoutly.

She wagged her tail, ever so happy. She'd had heard it even in the grudging admiration of the Cats, and the Queen Susan had confirmed it with her selection of Lambert. Still, she had known Master Roblang long, and it was very good to hear it from the mouth of one whom she respected so well.

"Thank you Master. I am very proud of him. Is it confirmed, that he will be Queen Susan's Guard?"

He laughed at little and looked at her, but not in the eye, and she appreciated his courtesy in not overtly asserting authority over her here. "Queen Susan only wished your blessing, which we all knew you would give."

"Still, it is good to be considered part of the decision. What of you, Master? You are very tired yourself and have not slept. What news while we rested?"

"It's a right kerfuffle it is, Briony. We all know it's a good decision, well, except the Queen Lucy. I've had every Beast within walking distance of Cair making a path to me, all asking to be a Guard. Even the Moles and Hedgehogs."

Wolves did not laugh especially well, but she could smile and wagged again. "Oh dear. I did wonder if perhaps Wrasse had not thought this through completely. When one really thinks on it, not many Beasts may be suited to a Palace Guard."

Roblang nodded. "You see it as Pliny does. And for all that, the Cats are scratching amongst themselves for the High King, seeming to forget that King Peter is likely to have some opinions on who will be his Guard."

"Leopards versus Cheetahs?" she asked.

"Aye. I'd heard it tell that the Crows are offering four to one that Leopards will get it, what with Wrasse being the leader of it."

 _Crows will bet on anything._ They were shameless that way.

"I heard yesterday that they refused to take any wagers on Merle for King Edmund, being as that was a sure thing," she told the Dwarf.

"And by the time Queen Susan left the Castle with Lambert, they closed betting on that one too." He rubbed his fingers together, but in a self-mocking sort of way. "I might have made a Lion on that one if I'd been quick enough!" He laughed at his own foolishness.

"Well, Master, with Canines now Guard to both Queen Susan and King Edmund, in fairness a Cat probably should serve the High King, assuming an appropriate one can be found."

Roblang threw up his hands. "By the Lion, you would think that defeating the Witch would mean an end to these rivalries!"

"Surely you know the Tale every mother tells that on the day after Aslan sang Narnia into being, the Lion had to settle a quarrel between Canine and Feline!"

He laughed. "And I've heard both versions, with the Felines saying the Canines started the argument, and Canines saying the Felines started it!"

"Yet, are the Centaurs and Dwarfs, or Satyrs and Fauns, or Goats and Cows any different?"

"It is a very good thing where once we were united in our hate for her, we are now even more united in our Love for the Four, or we'd be a quarrelsome bunch indeed!"

It was an old, familiar discussion between them.

She sensed Roblang sober and turned to listen intently. "All seriousness, Lady, this Guard business is troublesome. If we had a Lion or two, that would be ideal, but…" The Dwarf trailed off frowning.

Briony growled. "Surely not. He would certainly not suit at all."

"Well, I had to politely tell a pair of Squirrels that as fiercely as they might defend their nut hoards, we likely needed something a bit larger to Guard King Peter."

She nudged her weary friend with her nose. "You have had trials, my Captain." Roblang held out a hand and allowed her to nuzzle it affectionately.

"You are a fine Wolf, Lady. Narnia, and I, and the Queen Susan are all grateful to you for so gallantly surrendering your Mate."

"I am very proud of him, Master. He has earned this, and I am privileged to share in it with him." Briony let the sigh escape her. "One thing which you should know is that with this transition we will put off a litter for a year or two."

Roblang nodded, sighing himself with plain and gratifying sympathy. "I am sorry, Lady, but if it is any consolation, I believe it the right decision." He shook a finger at her. With another less familiar to her, she might bite it. "But I don't want to see you both waiting too long, either. Understood? We need Wolves like you and your Mate, and I want to Captain your pups someday myself."

She wagged her tail again, letting her tongue hang out and licked his hand. "You honor us both, Master Roblang."

"That was one of the reasons I came up here. Pliny wanted to be sure you both thought about your season coming up. I knew you wouldn't be Songbirds about it, but told him I'd be sure to raise the issue. Pliny spoke to the Queen Susan as well and told her she would need to be alert for when it happens."

"Oh, that was well thought of him. Thank him for us please."

Shrugging, the Dwarf said, "Our Monarchs are still quite young, as Humans go. In truth, these are things they don't give much thought to. Yet, anyway. Another year or two in Narnia, and they'll understand the rhythms of the courtship seasons as well as the rest of us."

"We are all re-discovering them ourselves, I think. Or, at least what a normal pattern is now that we can enjoy seasons again."

He nodded his agreement. "And young Monarchs brings me to my other reason for coming up here, Lady."

She sensed a more serious cast in him, in the way he subtly turned to her, keeping his eyes down, making himself smaller before her. _What in Aslan's name does Master Roblang wish of me? I've already given them my Heart._

"Yes, Master?"

"The Queen Lucy continues to be very resistant to a Guard."

"Lambert mentioned that."

"For the moment, Sir Jalur is attending her."

It was bad manners to react so to a respected, brave member of the Army, but instinctively, Briony's ears flattened. She had to will her curling lip back down over her teeth. "That seems …" She groped for the appropriate phrasing, "an ill fit."

With a snort of laughter, Master Roblang thumped the ground with his hand. "Indeed it is, Lady. I come here to ask most humbly if you might consider serving our, so far very reluctant, Valiant Queen."

"Oh!" She felt her fur rise in surprise. "Leave the Army? Leave your command, Captain?"

"Aye, Lady. On the positive side, you and Lambert would likely be together more, at least when both Queens are in residence, or on the road together."

There was that. To leave the Army, though, would be hard. She would lose Master Roblang and the comradeship of her fellow Soldiers. Yet, Aslan willing, she would regain more of her Mate, and the intimacy and status of Guard to one of the Four.

"I could not refuse this, Master, any more than I could refuse my Mate to the Queen Susan," she said.

Roblang bowed to her. "I know, Lady Briony, and you are great for it. Convincing Queen Lucy will be another matter, and it must be a willing pairing."

"Aslan Guide Me," Briony repeated the litany.

"Where our Valiant Queen is concerned, that guidance may be very direct and frequent."

Her heart thumped with wildly. She'd not seen the Great Lion except from a Soldier's worshipful distance, at Beruna, and at the Coronation, but not since.

"Do you think so, Master?" she whispered.

"Aslan watches Queen Lucy closely, and she in turn, dwells on him. Should you follow Her Grace's example, I should be very surprised if the Great Lion could resist being far from two who love him so well."

Well, that settled it. _If it be your will, Aslan, so it shall be mine._

"So you shall try?" Roblang asked.

"Of course."

"Consider it my Order then. You're to relieve Sir Jalur at the first chance, Briony. Aslan willing it will be the last Order I give you."

She did not have chance to probe this peculiar statement, for a whiff on the wind announced that Lambert had finally awoken. "My Mate is up," she said, turning back to the Den. "Will you stay a moment, Master?"

"Aye."

She trotted back up the hill as Lambert stepped out of their Den, blinking in the sunlight. Enthusiastically licking his muzzle in greeting while he was still yawning was probably irritating. Lambert grumbled, yawning again, "Eouuwww!" He was trying to stretch, but her eagerness also impeded him. Lambert finally gave her firm push his nose. "Peace, Lady, I'm still waking."

"And hungry," she prompted, gently mouthing his neck. He was healing and he was hers.

"Could eat a Cheetah."

"Hush, Master Roblang will hear!"

"I already did!" the Red Dwarf called. He was climbing up to the Den then stopped, still several paces away. Without making eye contact, Master Roblang bowed, deeply, offering gestures of profound respect in both his and in Wolf language.

"Royal Guard, Narnia thanks you, as do I."

Lambert made to return the gesture, wincing slightly, but Roblang stopped him. "Hold, Guard. We'll have to be working out the protocols here, but I think the only one to whom you bow is Your Queen; possibly, the High King, but that only because of his authority over all. You are certainly no longer mine to command, Lambert."

Briony nearly froze in shock, Lambert next to her. This was what Master Roblang had meant by his last order; and why the Crow had obeyed Lambert yesterday.

"Much it seems has occurred while I slept?" Lambert asked with his characteristic understatement.

"Your Lady will tell you more of it." The Dwarf yawned, a really remarkable concession to his fatigue, given how hardy his folk were. "I've orders from the Gentle Queen that you are to feed, see the Physician, and rest. She says you may visit with her this afternoon, but not before." With a grin, Master Roblang added, "You may bow to that as it is a direct Order from your Queen."

He saluted them both. This sudden change in status, command, and structure was so very strange. "If you'll excuse me, Guard, Lady, but I'm to bed now for a few hours before I must tell the Goats that they may not serve as you."

"Goats?" Lambert echoed. Briony nuzzled and licked his ears as Master Roblang strode away toward the Red Dwarf barracks.

"Every Beast of Narnia has been petitioning Master Roblang all night to serve as you do."

Lambert huffed and gave himself a good shake, then growled as the movement sent pain even she could feel. "I shall be very glad when this is healed."

"You've not yet had it a day, my Heart. Come, let's to the Yard, and see if there is Cheetah on the menu this morning."

Hungry as he was, Lambert stopped and awarded her a sound and affectionate mouthing when she told him, very, very quietly, of Queen Lucy.

"It may not happen," she cautioned as they descended into the sheltered wood where the Carnivores and Omnivores with a taste for flesh fed. "Aslan Guide Me, I wish it, but shall not wish it over much for she must wish it too."

"I understand," Lambert said, rubbing his non-injured side to hers. "To speak more of it is unwise, or we'll have Crows taking wagers on it before we finish eating."

As they made their way along the walk, two mature Leopards, both male, walked toward them. Incredibly, they both bowed their heads, murmuring "Royal Guard," respectfully. If she could have laughed, Briony would have. The Felines weren't so smug _now._ It was the same with a Jaguar female, several Hounds of the Pack, a bonded Fox pair, and very large, grumpy Brown Bear. Even the graying He-Wolf, Convel, and the grizzled, battle-scarred She-Tiger, Bastet, who oversaw the Yard, were deferential. Convel and Bastet immediately permitted Lambert, and Briony with him, to feed, and privately.

It wasn't Cheetah, but still it was good, and Lambert ate very well.

They were enjoying their peace, licking their meal away when the unmistakable odor of exuberant Hound preceded the entrance of Merle by a full three seconds.

Merle galloped in, and Briony had to interpose herself quickly to keep the Boarhound from slamming into Lambert.

"Settle, Guard," she scolded, though gently. As Master Roblang had said, Merle would answer to none save King Edmund now. Not that this was much different from what the situation had been in the last year, as Merle didn't obey anyone except the Just King and never had.

"Hullo Briony! Lambert!"

The Hound, with no regard to protocol at all looked, Lambert straight in the eye, lowered his front end, and offered to play.

Lambert's hair rose, and he growled. But, this was always the way of it with Merle. He just never _learned_.

"Merle!" Briony snapped. "Lambert is still wounded. Surely you can smell the blood!"

"Oh, right." Merle shook himself hard, spraying spittle and drool everywhere, and started gamboling about, sniffing for whatever morsels might be left.  There was no point in trying to converse with them at all if they were on the scent, especially if the scent was food. As for Merle, well, he was a bit deficient regardless, and didn't come from a line known for its sharpness and wit.

Briony looked at Lambert; her Mate was trying to be patient and he was going to be in closer quarters with Merle than any Canine would wish. Merle had lost his Dam too young and King Edmund had taken to him as a puppy. This meant though that Merle had never learned behavior among and from his own kind.

"Merle!" Briony had to repeat the Hound's name four times as he nosed in the corners.

"Huh?" he eventually responded.

"What are you doing here?"

The Hound thought on this. It was hard effort. Merle did not do a lot of thinking. Baying, eating, slobbering, chasing, sniffing, yes. Thinking, not as much, unless it involved baying, eating, slobbering, chasing, or sniffing. Fortunately, it seemed King Edmund was able take care of the thinking for both of them, leaving Merle to provide the brawn and muscle, tasks to which he was exceedingly well suited.

"I dunno," the Hound said. "I smelled Lambert, so thought I'd drop by."

"Why are you not with King Edmund?" Lambert asked, a little frosty.

"There's a Night Guard now too, so Ed has a Bear until I get there."

 _Ed_. Briony managed not to shudder. _Ed_. Oh by Aslan. Lambert would pull his fur out dealing with this one.

"A Night Guard is very sensible," Lambert mused aloud.

"I don't like it," Merle sniffed with a downcast look in his body. "I wanted to sleep with Ed last night 'cause he'd be real worried about how his brother and sister almost died, and the stupid Bear wouldn't let me in the room."

Briony could not believe her ears. Sleep with a frightened King? In his rooms? Merle should not be speaking so. She glanced at Lambert, wondering how he would react.

Lambert pushed his nose gently to Merle, compelling the Hound's attention, and permitting eye to eye contact. "Guard your King's privacy as you do his life. Do not speak of such things to anyone. Ever. Again." Lambert voice and manner became very firm and authoritative, as he spoke, equal to equal. "Tell me you understand, Guard."

"It's a secret?" Merle whispered, too loud. Though any whisper would likely still be too loud where they were with all the sharp-eared Canines and Felines.

"Yes," she and Lambert both said.

"Oh." Merle sat on his haunches and scratched himself, then began licking in places he just should not be exploring in company.

"Merle!" Briony exclaimed. "Not in front of us!"

Merle was too intent on his own activities to heed her.

"Guard!" Lambert barked. "Not now!"

Merle's voice was muffled, his mouth occupied as it was. "Feels so good."

"Let's leave him to it," Briony muttered. _Really_. One would think there should be some greater dignity in a Guard, or indeed, any Talking Beast. She stalked out, Lambert following. Merle was going to have to learn some better manners.

More soothing to her ruffled spirits, the bowing and deference continued as they walked back up from the Yard through the wood. It was still early yet and cool, with a faint smell of distant rain. It was time to get Lambert to the physician. Her Mate was thoughtful and quiet as they walked. Briony could guess his thoughts.

She inhaled deeply and swiveled her ears, but did not detect anything overly close. Still, a Crow might be lurking, so best to be discreet in so open a place.

"There will be secrets, won't there?" she said, more statement than question.

"Already are," Lambert grunted. "Some will be matters of State, so among the Monarchs and Guards, I suppose those could be discussed. But others..."

"Would be secret between Guard and Monarch alone," she finished. Merle should have never spoken so of King Edmund to them.

"Yes," Lambert agreed heavily and so decisively she wondered what secrets Queen Susan had already told him. "I'll speak to him, as privately as I may."

Briony did not ask who "he" might be. She would not ask. It was Guard business and unless and until she was a Guard, would not be her business, and perhaps not even then.

With a nudge, she pushed Lambert in the direction of the Physician. "Get you there, my Mate. I have Master Roblang's assignment to see to."

She saw a Crow flit above in the branches over head. Aslan above, the Birds were incorrigible. Well, that one would get no wagering information from her, though perhaps one had followed Master Roblang earlier and heard his order already. _All the more reason to be careful now._

It was time to see a Tiger about a Queen.

* * *

"Sir Jalur," Briony called. "What are you doing in the tree?"

"Learning to fly," came the Tiger's weary, snappish voice.

_No, this would not work at all._

"I am here to relieve you on Master Roblang's order," she said in a lower voice. Queen Lucy would probably not hear her, but Jalur would.

"Thank Aslan," the Tiger muttered. With a shudder of the branch above releasing his weight, the Tiger jumped to the ground in front of her. Briony took an instinctive step back. A large, male predator landing in front of her like that would never be something she would take casually.

"Queen Lucy is in the tree. She will not come down."

"Yes," Briony said. "I can smell that." The Queen was so high up, Briony could not see her.

"I am leaving. It is your problem now." With that inauspicious introduction and farewell, Jalur turned tail and stalked off.

"Good bye Sir Jalur!" piped a very happy voice from the tree above.

Briony sat for a moment, collecting her thoughts, assessing the situation. She very much wished this to get off on the right footing, as Jalur surely had not.

Yes, the tree did seem rather high, but then she wasn't arboreal herself, and it appeared that the Queen Lucy had some of that in her nature. Nor was the tree a Dryad, which would have eliminated the concern altogether. Well, best find the right Beast for the job then. Hearing a chittering argument, she trotted over to a lovely Oak. "Friend Squirrels! Might I speak to you?"

"What's that?" chirped a high voice.

"I'm not falling for it, you lout! It's my acorn! Not yours!"

"Oh shut it, you! Someone was speaking to us!"

A chuckle shook the limbs of the Tree, shedding acorns on Briony's head.

"Friends!" she said again. "I am Briony, and I seek your good aid in a matter concerning the Queen Lucy!" That would bring them down.

"Oh!" one voice said, high pitched and tinny.

"Why didn't you say so!" said another voice, slightly lower and still tinny.

The two gray Squirrels scampered down the trunk into view, clinging upside down and looking at her. One of them had an acorn in his, no her, teeth.

"It's my nut!" said the male to the female, who managed to look very pleased with herself as she shook her small head with an emphatic, "No."

"Good day, Friends. I am Briony, assigned to guard the Queen Lucy. For today," she amended, addressing them courteously. It was best to be accurate so as she would not offend anyone or give grist to the Crows' betting mills. "And you are?"

"Pocket," twittered the male, with a twitch of his tail. "If she didn't have my nut in her teeth, she'd tell you her name is Tricky."

Tricky managed an indignant squeak, even with her mouth clamped on an acorn. She spun her tail around in greeting as well.

"Well met, Pocket and Tricky." Briony pointed her muzzle in the direction of Queen Lucy's tree. "Our Valiant Queen is in the tree over there and as I do not climb nearly so well as yourselves, might you accompany her?"

Their tails twisted and twirled so many times with excitement, the force of it might have propelled them from the Tree. In fact, they did fly off the Oak, leap across the grass, and were up the trunk of the other tree in a moment. The Dryad devolved and Briony saw a young, bearded, smiling face in the bark. She bowed her head. "Friend, if our Queen does become stranded in that tree, would you assist her?"

The Oak smiled more broadly and bowed, pelting her with more acorns. The Dryad would be able to side up to the tree in which Queen Lucy was perched and help guide her down, if necessary.

Mission accomplished, Briony returned to the Queen's tree to wait. She did watch the skies, but it was unlikely anything with malicious intent would come at the Queen from that direction. There weren't any dragons in Narnia. Otherwise, Briony assumed that as with all Beasts, hunger would bring Queen Lucy down, eventually.

It was quite merry up in the tree and amusing. Queen Lucy chattered nearly as violently as the Squirrels, though she was not as quarrelsome. When the Songbirds in the area realized their Queen was in a tree, they too flocked to the branches, making sitting under them a bit uncomfortable for Briony. She moved over a bit so as not to be in the line of fire. There was a great deal of discussion of nuts and seeds, with the Squirrels and Birds bringing different things for their Queen to taste.

From the spitting, it sounded as if each offering was more bitter than the last. This led to something else for Briony to dodge as the spittle and discards fell from the branches above. Briony was very glad Queen Lucy successfully convinced the Songbirds that she was not the least hungry for insects and worms.

They were that way for some time. It was by her judgment well after the luncheon hour when Briony heard what she thought sounded to be human yawn. There was movement above her. "That one next, Queen Lucy," Pocket chattered.

"No! You dolt! The other one is closer!" Tricky countered.

"But too skinny!"

"Like your tail!"

"Friends!" Queen Lucy cried. "No arguing, please!"

There was more deliberate movement and the sounds of weight slowly shifting from one limb to the next until a very dirty, bare, human foot dangled from a branch. Briony looked up. "Good afternoon, Queen Lucy."

"Hello. Are you the Guard I don't want?"

Briony thought about that before answering. "I do not think I can be your Guard if you do not want me," was what she settled upon.

The foot drew back up and Briony could see Queen Lucy wrap both her legs around the tree trunk. She then let go with her hands to hang upside down, hair and arms now dangling from the limb. The Squirrels scampered down the trunk, squealing their approval, as they too were traveling down head first.

"Well done, Queen Lucy!"

"You would make an excellent Squirrel!"

"Thank you, Friends!"

Briony wondered what had happened to Tricky's nut. The Squirrels would have likely tried to share it with Queen Lucy.

Turning her head sideways, Briony studied the situation again, staring at her upside down Queen.

"What is your name?" the Queen asked.

"I am Briony, Mate to Lambert, and Soldier in the Company of Master Roblang."

"You look confused, Briony" the Queen said.

"I am," Briony admitted. "I was thinking that if you were in those long leg coverings I have seen you and Queen Susan wear, you would not be able to do this because the cloth would hang over your head. I see though that you are wearing clothing like that human males wear. It smells of the King Edmund, I believe."

Queen Lucy's upside down face scowled. "I can't climb trees in a dress, even if it is pretty!

 _Dress._ That was the word. The alternate was _trouser_. _Or was it_ t _rousers? Was the word dre ss like trousers because they covered legs rather than a leg?_

"Of course you could not," Briony said approvingly. "A dress would be very awkward, even unsafe. I congratulate you for thinking this through so clearly, Queen Lucy."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome."

"You are not going to scold me?"

"Why should I do that?"

The Upside Down Queen swung back and forth, a smile on her face, quite unrepentant. "Because I climbed too high and might get hurt."

Briony made to think on this very seriously, as if the thought had not occurred to her before. "As you are nearly down now and not hurt, I do not see that that matters over much. It does occur to me that you would be better off climbing a Dryad, though."

The Queen frowned. "You _are_ worried I'm going to fall, aren't you?"

Briony decided not to answer that question, and so posed another issue altogether. She leaned in and whispered, "I fear, Queen Lucy, that your Dryad subjects might be jealous if you do not ask to climb them first." No Dryad would refuse Queen Lucy the joy of climbing in his or her branches.

Queen Lucy looked so horrified, Briony almost felt guilt at the ploy. She steeled her resolve, pleased with the compromise. Lucy could climb, the Dryads would protect her, and would be honoured to do so.

"That had not occurred to me! How dreadful! Should I apologize?"

"I do not believe you need to apologize to all the Dryads of Narnia. But there's a fine Oak over there and it might make him feel better if you promised to climb him tomorrow."

Pulling herself up, she now grabbed the branches with her hands, released her feet and swung down to the ground. She landed very hard, wincing.

Briony restrained herself from asking if the Queen was hurt. Two Robins in the tree, Pocket, _and_ Tricky took care of that. "Queen Lucy, are you hurt?" "Are you injured?" "Do you need the Physician?"

The twitters and chirps were overwhelming and, in Briony's view, overly concerned and irritating. Queen Lucy seemed heated in the face and was rubbing her backside, but it wasn't as if there was any blood or howling. On the battlefield, this would not be worth the slightest comment. Not sensing the Queen was suffering any serious pain, except maybe embarrassment, Briony thought it best to use this to her advantage as well.

"Friends!" Briony called. "Our Valiant Queen is fine! Thank you for keeping her such excellent company. Would you please find Mr. Hoberry or Mrs. Furner and ask them to send some food out that Queen Lucy might enjoy?"

Queen Lucy grinned. "Whatever you do, be sure to not bother Cook!"

Although Briony did not serve at Cair Paravel (yet), even she had heard of Cook's formidable reputation. To upset Cook was to upset meals and to upset meals was to upset one's own stomach. By all accounts, Cook had a way of expressing her unhappiness in _very direct_ ways.

The Robins launched from the tree, the Squirrels chasing after them, and the four raced across the garden and disappeared out the gate.

Briony tried to be disapproving. "Cook will be the first one they look for now."

"You will have to tell me if you hear shrieking from the kitchens."

Briony noted that Queen Lucy was still rubbing her side. She decided to address this as a Soldier would, rather than as the Squirrels had. "If that still pains you, I have heard the Physician has some remedies that the Kings have used for such minor annoyances."

"Thank you." The Queen paused. "I don't think it's that bad, I just didn't like the fuss."

"I quite agree. Fussing always annoys me," Briony said with feeling.

"Besides, if I went to the Physician, you would tell someone I was hurt."

Briony swiveled an ear, sensing the hint of anger and frustration in Queen Lucy.

"Begging your pardon, Queen Lucy, but you are not hurt. Second, I do not see my position is to tattle on you."

"You don't?"

"No."

A curious expression crossed her face; it was one that Briony did not understand – the Queen was Human after all and Briony had not yet learned their language well.

Queen Lucy bounced over to the Oak Dryad. "Hello, Lord Oak! How are you?"

The Dryad's lithe branches drifted downward, gently settling on the Queen's shoulders. His face appeared again in the trunk. Queen Lucy laughed and twirled among the encircling limbs. "I promise I shall climb in your later, if that's all right!"

The Oak bowed and acorns bounced down and all around their feet. "No offense, Lord Oak," Lucy said, "but I thought your acorns were a bit hard to eat! The Squirrels do love them, though, so thank you for sharing!"

The Dryad laughed, a hollow echoing sound billowing from his trunk; his leaves and limbs quivered with mirth.

Queen Lucy spun away from the branches on to the lawn.

"So, why not?" the Queen asked, calling over her shoulder as she broke into a run toward the fish pond in the garden.

"Why not what?" Briony asked, loping beside her. The large goldfish in the pond did not speak. Briony had heard that the Cats, Otters, and some of the other Beasts were always sneaking into the Cair Paravel gardens to eat them when no one was looking.

"Why won't you tattle on me?"

As the Queen seemed to be preoccupied with floating lily pad stems in the pond, Briony settled down at the water's edge. It reminded her that she wanted to bathe today and she hoped that her Royal charge liked to swim.

"That's an excellent question, Queen Lucy. We are all trying to figure out what it means to be a Guard to one of the Four. Lambert and I agreed that a Monarch will have to be able to trust his or her Guard. So, it seems to me that running to the Physician, or Mrs. Furner, or the High King every time you climb a tall tree or land too hard would just make you want to hide things. I'd want you to feel you could trust me with your secrets."

'Lambert is your Mate, isn't he?"

"He is. He is to Guard Queen Susan now and I am very proud of him."

Briony sensed a tension rise in Queen Lucy. The Queen was shredding lily pads with real vigor and tossing them into the pond. Her brothers, the Kings, and the Queen Susan were all attacked yesterday. Briony wasn't sure how a Human felt, but she knew she had been very anxious about Lambert and thought the emotions would be at least similar even if Humans expressed them differently.

"Susan said Lambert was injured defending her."

"Yes," Briony admitted, "he was." So were the High King and Queen Susan, yet Lucy did not mention this.

"Is he badly hurt? No one asked, but I could use my cordial to heal him right up."

Briony was deeply touched. Easing forward, she touched the Queen's hand with her nose in gratitude. "Thank you, Queen Lucy, for such an offer. But, Lambert is a Soldier and it's a Soldier's clean wound, taken in a good, brave cause. He'll heal well with some rest."

With her nose cupped in the Queen Lucy's hands, she felt her Monarch tremble. With a Human, the action seemed more appropriate for a pet, than for a Talking Beast, but Briony nevertheless pushed into her Queen's hand with her nose, nuzzling her as she would communicate affection with another Wolf. It was intimate given that she did not yet know the Queen well, but her instincts told her that Queen Lucy needed this tactile support.

The moment passed and the Queen's hand fell away. Briony withdrew her muzzle and settled again next to Queen Lucy.

The Queen began folding little boats out of leaves, setting them in the water and blowing them across the pond. A large goldfish approached one, mouthing the boat with its bulbous lips.

"I don't want a Guard, Briony," the Queen said. "You are lovely and kind, and I should like very much to be your friend, but I don't want to be the sort who has a bodyguard all the time."

Briony tried blowing the boat further across the pond. She did not have the lip shape to do more than a fluttering sigh. The Queen giggled at her efforts and it was a joy to hear. "Yet, Queen Lucy, you do need protection from those who might harm you."

"Aslan protects me, Briony. I do not mean to offend you, but his protection is greater than yours."

So that was the way of it. _The Foolish Faun_. This would be difficult, Briony could see. She did not want to challenge this faith in the Great Lion, but Queen Lucy also needed to understand that Aslan would expect them all to do what they could to protect themselves so that he would not have to do so himself.

 _Aslan Guide Me_ , she repeated the litany again.

No sooner had she formed the words then her heart gave an enormous leap. Her nose filled with the most luscious, goodly scent imaginable; there was wonderful music in her ears.

In this, Queen Lucy was faster than a Wolf. The Queen bounded up, and her joyous smile rivaled the Sun.

"Aslan!" the Queen shouted, and pelted away from the pond's edge.

Briony leapt to her feet, pivoted about, and beheld, at no mere Soldier's distance, the Great Lion of Narnia. It could be no other. Nothing could imitate the elation she felt, mirrored so completely in Queen Lucy. He was beautiful and perfect, and if a Lion could laugh, he was.

The Queen had already flung her arms around the Lion's neck, burying her face in his glorious mane.

Briony dropped back down, as close to the ground as she could manage and crawled on her belly toward the Lion, muzzle and eyes upraised. "Sire," she murmured, her happiness strangling any other words in her throat.

To the Great Lion, her silence did not matter. Aslan looked beyond the Daughter of Eve clinging to him, and straight into Briony's heart and mind, and he saw and heard every wondrous word of praise she wished to say. Briony flattened as far as she could, wishing to roll over on her back to offer her underside and neck in obeisance, but unable to look away from those great, golden, all knowing eyes.

"Peace, daughter," he said to her. "Please rise. I am well pleased with you and your Mate."

She might have, should have, been proud; instead, Briony was profoundly humbled. "We serve," she said softly, feeling greater satisfaction in her duty than she had ever felt before. She slowly unfolded her limbs and stood.

"Thank you," she managed, for somehow Briony knew that it was in response to her heartfelt supplication that the Lion had come.

"Aslan, why weren't you here yesterday!" Queen Lucy cried, tears streaming down her face. The Queen's distress was very great and Briony realized she had been, valiantly, hiding her fears and waiting until this moment to release them. "Peter and Susan could have been killed!"

The Lion pushed his nose to the Queen, raising her crying eyes so that she could look into his. "Dearheart, I _was_ here yesterday."

"Where!" she demanded. "When?"

"It was I who guided Wrasse, Merle, and your Guard's Mate, Lambert. They came to aid my Kings and Queens in my place. I acted through those Good Beasts, and so your brothers and sister were spared."

Wagging her tail in gratitude, emboldened, Briony sidled up to the Great Lion. "They aren't here now, but on their behalf, thank you, Sire, for using them to do your will."

"I'd rather it was you, instead, Aslan," Queen Lucy uttered, fierce and defiant.

Aslan growled, low like thunder on a mountaintop and it took a real effort for Briony to not flatten with the displeasure he expressed. "You are a Lioness, Lucy, not a Foolish Faun. As surely as I sent the Gryphon, the Giant, and the Dwarf to save my son the Faun, I send my Wolves, Hounds, and Great Cats to watch over you. If you spurn them, you spurn _me_."

The teary-eyed Queen hugged the Lion tighter. "I don't want to be foolish, Aslan. But I don't want to live in fear always, either. I want to be Valiant, as you named me. How can I do that with a Guard?"

The Lion looked to Briony and she knew he expected her to speak. She pondered his words, listening to Queen Lucy's quiet weeping. What he described was fundamental to being Narnian - every Narnian worshiped the Lion, but a Narnian did not to expect the Lion to solve one's every problem either.

"Queen Lucy, I do not see having a Guard as making you any less Valiant," Briony told her.

The Queen sniffled and looked up, wiping her eyes and dripping nose on her brother's clothes. "You don't?" she asked.

"Even your brothers, the Kings, fight with Guards by their side. I have seen this many times before. A Guard does not make you less brave, any more than it makes the Kings less brave. Recognizing the need for a Guard does make you wiser."

The Lion bent his great head to his Valiant Queen. "I have heard your prayers, my Lioness. My daughter the Wolf will be the friend and companion you have asked for; by my will and in my stead, she shall protect you too."

Queen Lucy hugged the Lion again, her quick hot tears drying. "I knew you heard me, Aslan. I just didn't know how you would answer."

"Now you do," the Lion said, so very gently. "I expect great things from you, Lucy and, with Briony by your side, you will be freer to accomplish them."

There was a shriek beyond the garden walls, followed by raucous squawks and catcalls.

"As you asked before, Queen Lucy, I believe that is Cook shrieking!" Briony said, cocking an ear in the direction of the fracas.

"It is," the Lion said. "Three Crows, five Songbirds, two Squirrels, and a Pony have stolen food for the Valiant Queen from Cook's kitchen. Your picnic shall be arriving in pieces."

Queen Lucy laughed, the tears dashed away. "Aslan, will you stay and join us?"

"No, Lucy. Not today." The Lion breathed on his Queen, planting a gentle kiss on her head. Briony's heart and tail thumped so wildly, she thought she might leap out of her skin as the Lion kissed her head as well.

"Thank you, Sire," she managed to breathe out.

"Thank you, daughter. You and your Mate serve me well."

The Lion whisked about, and it seemed that sunbeams and gold shot out from him. The grass was greener where he stood. "There," he said, and Briony saw a group of Birds laboring over the garden wall, carrying in their claws together an enormous bundle that smelled delicious. "That is your picnic and you'd best rescue it, Lucy, before the good Birds drop it from that height. I shall pay a visit to Cook, I think."

With a scent of Summer and a flash of brilliant Autumn colour, the Lion took a great stride and then sailed over the garden wall. A moment later, on the other side, there was the sound of a huge crash and another shriek, louder and more shocked than the first.

Queen Lucy ran toward the weaving airborne bundle, laughing and waving. The Birds dropped the package, but it was too large for the Queen to catch, and the whole of it landed with a squelching sound on the grass. A Pony carrying another bundle clamped in his teeth trotted into the garden, Pocket and Tricky riding on his back.

The Valiant Queen was already gesturing her friends on to the grass for a squishy picnic. "Briony!" she called. "You'll join us, won't you?"

"Of course, Queen Lucy. And I won't tell Cook who sent the Birds and Beasts into her kitchen."

* * *

 

 _The Tale of the Foolish Faun_ , from Chapter 5 of _By Royal Decree_ , is repeated in the following chapter for those who have not heard it.


	4. The Tale of the Foolish Faun

**_The Tale Of The Foolish Faun_ ** **_  
_ ** _(repeated from Chapter 5, By Royal Decree)_

* * *

_"We don't know when he will act. In his time, no doubt, not ours. In the meantime, he would like us to do what we can on our own." Prince Caspian, Ch. XIII._

* * *

The Raven asked, "Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, do you know The Tale of the Foolish Faun?"

"We do not," said they.

"It is a Tale you should hear, for to know The Tale of the Foolish Faun it is to understand something of Narnia."

To the Hound, the Raven said, "Lady, would you tell the Tale?"

The Hound Bitch began in her gentle, wise voice.

"Come now Gentle Beasts, Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve that might you hear The Tale of the Foolish Faun. To my puppies I tell it, as I learned it from my Dam, as she from hers, back generation upon generation. The Tale of the Foolish Faun was told the day after Aslan sang Narnia into being, at the Court of good King Frank and Queen Helen. It is told every day, in cave, and nest, and den, and meadow, and pond, that we might remember and heed it. Good Beasts and Creatures of Narnia, when you hear the words, you shall stop and listen with your sensitive heart so that all may know The Tale of the Foolish Faun and its Lesson. So, harken to me now."

"It begins thus."

There was once a Faun who lived in a Cave near the Great River. It was a splendid Cave, with books, and furniture, and pictures, and a fine fireplace. The Faun was very happy. He had many friends and spent fine Summer evenings dancing in the Wood and playing his pipes.

This Faun was very good indeed. He faithfully worshipped Aslan, the Great Lion of Narnia. Every day, the Faun was mindful of and would perform most reverently his devotions to the Great Lion. He would pray to Aslan, help his neighbors in need, and was kind to strangers. He showed great respect for all Aslan's good Creation, and never cut the Wood save what the Tree gave, nor fouled the Water. The Faun loved as Aslan would wish of all his Sons and Daughters; and, in return, Aslan loved his Son, the Faun.

One day in Spring the rains began, such as had never been seen in many an age. It rained and rained. Snow from the mountains melted, combined with the rain, and lent great power and energy to the Great River. The River would not be contained and, as happens, swelled and burst his banks.

The Faun saw this flood with great dismay. The waters rose very fast and he was trapped by his splendid Cave. Trusting Aslan, he climbed on top a rock outside his Cave and waited and prayed for Aslan to deliver him from the great flood.

A mighty Gryphon came flying down and said, "Friend Faun, let me pick you up in my talons so that I might fly you away. Surely if you stay here on the rock, you shall drown."

"Friend Gryphon," said the Faun, "I thank you. But, I trust the Great Lion. He shall deliver me from the flood."

So the Gryphon flew away. The rain continued to fall, the River continued to rise, and the Faun soon found the water lapping up the sides of the rock. A Giant came, fording through the water. Even for him, the River was up to his knees.

"Friend Faun," the Giant called down, "let me lift you up and take you away from here. Surely if you stay here on the rock, you shall drown."

"Friend Giant," said the Faun, "I thank you. But, I trust the Great Lion. He shall deliver me from the flood."

So the Giant went away.

The Great River rose, higher still, and the Faun still on his rock, saw that his fine hooves were now under the water. A Dwarf came, rowing in a boat.

"Friend Faun," the Dwarf called, "climb in my boat and we shall row away. Surely if you stay here on the rock, you shall drown."

"Friend Dwarf," said the Faun, "I thank you. But, I trust the Great Lion. He shall deliver me."

So the Dwarf rowed away.

The Great River rose and swallowed the Faun. The Faun died, and so came to Aslan's Own Country.

The Faun came before the Great Lion and said, "Aslan, I love you and follow you faithfully. Why did you not save me?"

"My Son," Aslan said, "I sent the Gryphon, the Giant, and the Boat."

"And so, you see, Gentle Beasts and Daughters of Eve and Sons of Adam, Aslan does watch over us and protect us, his Sons and Daughters all. We are his most beloved children."

The Hound Bitch dropped her voice lower so that all had to lean in to hear her wise words, "But, know this, Friends…"

Raven, Tiger and Hound all completed the Lesson together, "the Great Lion wishes us to do what we may to save ourselves so he may not have to do it himself."

"Now may you understand a secret of Narnia," the Raven said. "The Great Lion watches over Narnia and his beloved children. We are blessed beyond measure and strive always to do his will. Yet, not by Aslan alone is Narnia is defended. All who come here would do well to heed that Lesson."

* * *

_To follow:_ _  
_Chapter 5, The Cheetah Guard of the High King_ _


	5. The Cheetah Guard of the High King

**The Palace Guard** **  
**_Chapter 5 – The Cheetah Guard of the High King_ ** **

* * *

"I place my body, mind and heart in service to you."  
Third line of the Guard's Oath sworn to Narnian Monarchs

" _And we beasts remember, even if Dwarfs forget, that Narnia was never right except when a Son of Adam was King. … It's not Men's country … but it's a country for a man to be King of. … I tell you, we don't change, we beasts … We don't forget."_ _  
 _Prince Caspian, Chapter 5__

" _I mean isn't the Witch herself human?" "She'd like us to believe it," said Mr. Beaver, "and it's on that that she bases her claim to be Queen.… No, no, there isn't a drop of real Human blood in the Witch."_ _  
 _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Chapter 8.__

" _She's amazingly intelligent, outrageously beautiful, adored by all around her - and absolutely detested by most reading her adventures. She's Mary Sue, the most reviled character type in media fan fiction."_ _  
_P. Pflieger _, Too Good To Be True: 150 Years of Mary Sue (presented at the American Culture Conference, 1999, updated in 2001) (footnote omitted)_

* * *

**_In Year 7, Golden Age_ **

The nursery in the Tree was a soothing, contented place. Dalia closed her eyes and let the warm comfort of it seep through her fur. A satisfied purr rumbled through her chest.

She did not need to open her eyes to know that Fooh and Beehn were near and safe. The private den set aside in the Tree for the Cheetah mother was comfortable and secure; her cubs were free to romp and tumble about. They were just starting to speak; Dalia had not known how silly they sounded at this age.

She caught the scent first.

"Fooh, Beehn! Come here!" Of course they would not, so she climbed quickly to her feet and snagged Fooh first. "A quick bath, son. Someone important is coming to meet you."

"Mfhffhmbbb!" the Cheetah cub protested, squirming with the treatment.

"Hush," Dalia ordered.

She gave her son a nudge and pounced on Beehn, repeating the process. Beehn _would_ be more cooperative than his brother, she thought with a sigh, as Fooh tried, again, to take advantage of her divided attention and escape their cozy den.

The High King Peter appeared in the divided doorway into the den, visible over the top half; the door's bottom half was secured so the cubs could not wander off, or in Fooh's case, scramble over it or under it. "Good afternoon Lady. I thought I might come and pay my respects."

"Of course," Dalia caught herself and made the correction, "High King. We would be honored."

A slight twitch in his face showed that he noticed her near slip. Dalia could sense that Wrasse, the Senior Panther, was behind the door, silent and watchful as the High King's temporary Guard during Dalia's maternity. The hair on her back rose, instinctively. Wrasse would never harm Fooh and Beehn, but Dalia could not deny the very nature Aslan had given all Great Cats. _We are what we are_ , Dalia considered, proud of this heritage and, today, sad for it.

"Wrasse, please wait for me at the end of the hall" the High King said, so firmly, only a fool would disobey. Wrasse, was no fool. She was, in fact, quite cunning, hence the direct, unequivocal order. "You are to be out of hearing. I wish to speak to Dalia alone."

Dalia heard Wrasse mutter, "As you wish, High King."

For a lesser Guard then Dalia herself, Wrasse would have made some catty remark reminding of the importance of preserving the High King's person. Here, it went without saying, manners in fact dictating that nothing be said at all. Wrasse herself would Guard the entrance; should a threat rise from the floor of nursery, of walk through the walls to molest High King Peter, Dalia would deal with it as well as any could, as she had for over seven years.

The High King looked over the bottom half of the door; Fooh was busy trying to climb up it.

"Hello, young Friend," the High King said courteously to the small cub. "Might I come in and visit you, your brother and mother?"

Fooh was so startled he slid back down the door, claws scraping the wood. He growled, hair rising, and mumbled something very like, "bghbadsmul," which Dalia translated as "New, large, frightening thing that smells strange! Mummy Help!"

"My apologies," Dalia said.

"If you are still growling at Us in another year, We shall turn you over to the General," the King said smiling warmly at the precocious cub.

Gently nudging the door open, the High King effectively blocked the exit with his legs, preventing Fooh from launching himself out the den and down the hall in another wild bid for freedom.

The High King shut both doors, top and bottom, and they were, at last, alone. Reading his questioning look, for Dalia had long served the High King and knew his every manner, she swiveled her ears and sniffed, testing the area. She replied to his unspoken question, "Wrasse is beyond hearing us, Peter."

With that familiarity, the High King, her King, sagged gratefully. Dropping to one knee, he held his arms out wide and Dalia bounded into them, nuzzling him, inhaling deeply the sent that belonged only to her Peter.

Fooh and Beehn tumbled after her, Beehn concluding that if Mummy thought it was safe, than plainly it must be, Fooh divided, growling fiercely and mewling pitifully for the indecision of friend or foe.

Dalia rubbed her head against his chest and purred fit to burst as Peter fondled her ears, running his hands over her head and down her spine.

"Congratulations, beautiful Lady," he purred back.

With her forceful push, Peter fell backwards onto the cushioned floor of the nursery, now attacked mercilessly by Fooh and Beehn who were delighted with the discovery of this new, King-sized chew toy and play thing.

Peter laughed and allowed the cubs to chew on his feet, sleeves, and ears. In an easy, rolling motion, he sat back up and gathered Beehn in one hand. "And you, young sir, are?"

"Beehn," Dalia told him.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Master Beehn."

The cub was chewing on Peter's fingers and mouthed a faint "ullo!"

Peter swooped down with the other hand and raised Fooh up to confer eye to eye. "And you are Master Fooh, a more ferocious Cheetah I am sure I have never met."

Fooh swatted his King with a tiny paw. "Fwoshus," he repeated.

With a laugh Peter set them both down and produced from his pocket a ball of yarn.

"Mrs. Furner will be very cross with you for taking good spun yarn from the sewing rooms!" Dalia scolded.

"Undoubtedly," Peter said with an unconcerned shrug. "She may appeal its loss to me the week after next amid squabbles already on Our Calendar over arbitration of Dwarf clan mining rights, Lone Islands' complaints, and endless discussions of laying in winter stores." Holding one end, Peter nudged the ball and let it unroll on the floor. Fooh and Beehn squealed and pounced. A balled up wad of parchment followed.

" _That was_ a very dull trade treaty," Peter said, flicking the parchment ball across the floor for the cubs to stalk. The parchment crackled in a way that was very appealing to feline curiosity.

"Unless they involve chickens, all trade treaties must necessarily be dull," Dalia agreed.

"It is put to much better use here for Fooh and Beehn."

"I feel I must remind you that King Edmund will approve of the waste of good parchment no more than Mrs. Furner will approve of the missing yarn."

Peter smiled, his manner as light as it could ever be. Fooh grabbed the balled up parchment in his front paws, rolled on to his back, and began savaging it with his teeth and back claws. "Susan was the one who gave me the parchment when she caught me sneaking the yarn!"

Peter settled back comfortably on the floor, watching the cubs with his practiced eye. "They both certainly favor you, Dalia, and I see Fahd's build and speed in Beehn. But Fooh?"

"Zuberi is his father."

He squinted, studying the cub mangling the parchment ball. "Yes, I see that, more in his manner than way of moving."

Dalia sighed. "I thought the cubs would have both Fahd's speed and Zuberi's strength. Fooh and Beehn both have me in them; why do they not have the qualities of both fathers since the mating happened in the same season? Instead, it is obvious, even at this young age that each has only one father. The physician cannot explain it."

Peter held out an arm and folded her into his embrace. "They are wonderful, Dalia. Perfect in every way."

She purred and rubbed against him, sensing his joy, turning it to something they shared in together. It had been a hard, ugly road to finally produce two healthy cubs and as Peter had shared her sorrow, he now shared her joy. She never begrudged the sacrifices made and the litters lost, but Fooh and Beehn were a very sweet victory.

Peter watched the cubs cavort, an arm draped carelessly over her back as he absently stroked her neck. "I admit to missing you, my Lady."

"And I have missed you, Peter," she replied, rubbing her head on his shoulder. "But you have had Wrasse, and I would have been a very poor Guard these last weeks."

"I mean no disrespect to that Great Cat, but she is not you."

"Alas, no," Dalia said primly, "for I am not nearly as knowledgeable as she."

As he would, Peter burst out laughing at Dalia's imitation of the Black Leopard's smug, precise manner of speech.

"I also persist in humor," she continued in the same disapproving manner. "It is most unbecoming in a Great Cat, for we are a very serious species, High King."

At her mimicry, Peter laughed again, with an ease he never showed, save when they were alone. Peter was always cautious, for it was in his nature to be so. Her fur caught on his roughened fingers as he caressed her chin. "Is it any wonder I find the other ladies who come to call so lacking when compared to you?"

"Do not be ridiculous, Peter," she sniffed haughtily, with the sly humor he so enjoyed. "Of course any mere woman lacks in comparison _to me_. Let us not judge them too harshly, for the poor things cannot help the innate inferiority of being human."

"Then surely I too must suffer the same inferiority?"

"Certainly not," she growled. Dalia's fur rose at the mere suggestion of it. "You are perfect in all respects."

She settled next to him, resting her head on his thigh, accepting with purrs, his hands combing through her fur.

"I had not considered it before, but setting me as the standard by which you measure women might explain your attraction to the longer legged females of your own species." She stretched one of her long hind legs for their mutual inspection and to emphasize the point before curling it back inward.

"The thought has occurred to me before as well. None though could ever be as beautiful as you."

She twisted her head in his lap so that he would see her bat her eyes, just as the human women so often did in his presence. Peter shook his head, smiling at her mockery. "You are scandalous and charming, Dalia, and I hope never to be the victim of your humors."

She nudged him playfully with a paw. "Flattering and whimsical though this all is, Peter, I had hoped Nadie of Galma would be accompanying you. I assume there have been no further developments?"

There was no change in Peter's outward demeanor. She, however, could immediately sense the tension rise and feel the roil of negativity splash about within him before Peter calmed himself.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, nuzzling his hand. So it was. _Again_.

"I am sorry as well," he said so calmly that only Dalia would know of the effort involved behind his prodigious self-control. "You liked Nadie, didn't you?"

"Well, she was very courteous to me. She smelt properly, I found her to be quite sensible, for a human, and her legs were long enough to satisfy even you."

Nadie had not been royalty, Aslan be praised, but a visiting merchant's sister. She was a calm woman with ordered emotions and an uncomplicated scent. Astonishingly, she had come to Narnia with no scheme for a match above her rank and station. She had arrived with her brother on business, would leave with her brother, and fully intended to return to their trade and the many attractive prospects waiting for her in Galma.

Nadie had not fallen over herself professing feelings any Beast could sense she did not have, but then, neither had Peter. There had been a frank honesty about the two of them together that the Good Beasts had found familiar and refreshing. Sufficiently encouraged, Dalia had been motivated to see what further might be contrived during Nadie's stay in Narnia.

And so it was that King Edmund had to scramble to execute the treaty covering the unexpected courtship after Nadie and Peter shared a home brewed bottle of Dwarf White Lightning, taught each other some rude, Otter-inspired songs, and took a long evening walk to the bathing pond Dalia had surreptitiously manipulated with Wrasse and Lambert's assistance. King Edmund had blamed Peter and Nadie in his sarcastic way for not adhering to his careful, advance handling of these matters, not realizing that it was the Palace Guard who really bore the responsibility for the sudden development.

"It could have worked," Peter admitted with rueful sigh. "You were right about her. I did like her. I still do. She likes me. She loves Narnia. There is attraction enough."

Dalia didn't comment on that. Peter and Nadie had shared _considerable_ attraction.

"And?" Dalia prompted.

"She returned to Galma to think on it and came to her senses."

Dalia growled, her like for Nadie threatening to evaporate.

Peter gave her shrewd look. "Don't criticize, Dalia. She merely concluded what you yourself have observed, for years."

Dalia's fur settled back down. "She _is_ an intelligent woman," she conceded.

"Indeed. Her letter was quite courteous, but Nadie saw very clearly what the match would entail and, with all due respect to Your Majesty, she thought that the men already in line would value her personal happiness higher in the hierarchy of love and duty."

_As Peter would say, "In one." Sensible woman, indeed._

"And so, therein lies the intractable problem. The ones that care only for political alliances or for the station are simply unbearable; the ones who might actually care about me, or at this point, I'd settle for someone who loves Narnia enough to tolerate me, well, they are too astute to accept the limitations."

It was those limitations that made Peter the High King that he was. He would place devotion to Aslan, Narnia, his subjects, and his siblings above all else. Peter loved everyone and everything, too much, too well, and too deeply. With so much love already given, Dalia had wondered whether he had any leftover. Nadie had, unsurprisingly really, seen it as Dalia herself did.

"I am sorry, Peter."

He let out a weary sigh and his ministering hand fell away. "The worst of it is how much I disappoint everyone. You my Good Subjects bear the greatest cost as I continue blundering about on this."

Dalia pushed her head under his hands, rolling her body across his legs and catching his hands in her paws. "I know you are heartily sick of me and everyone else reminding you of a Monarch's duty to his subjects. Know that whatever else, I am proud of you, I love you, and you could never, ever disappoint me."

"See?" Peter said with a wry smile. He stroked her sides, eliciting deeper purrs. "This is precisely what I mean. When you say such things to me, how can any thing else compare?"

She flinched inwardly at the statement, flattered to hear it, but still wishing that it were not so. As long as they had been together, as well as she knew him, still this hope of his to merge all in a single relationship was a mystery to her. She was a Great Cat and she did not wish for a mate, save as a sire for her cubs. Peter was surrounded by those whom he loved and who loved him well. Why then was there this idealized longing for something more when there was no need for it? Why not just select a willing partner as a Great Cat did and be done with it?

"Have you bespoken Aslan about it?"

"Oh yes, right before I bespoke Nadie, in fact."

"And?"

"I believe the Great Lion is as weary of hearing me ask for guidance on the subject as I am dwelling on how I fail in my duty to Narnia on this one stupid thing."

"You must do what you believe is right, Son of Adam?" she intoned.

Peter laughed, more bitterly than humorously. "Should I be scandalized that you imitate the Great Lion so well?"

"Nay," Dalia said. "Contrary to Wrasse's assertions of appropriate feline severity, Aslan has a splendid sense of humor and appreciates my mimicry of him. He has told me so himself."

Fooh and Beehn exhausted from their play, came mewling back to her, crying piteously in their hunger. Dalia adjusted her body for the cubs, but kept her head on Peter's lap and under his gentle hands.

Purrs of contentment from the four of them rose as Fooh and Beehn nursed greedily.

"They will sleep after this," Dalia said softly.

"I might as well," Peter said through a yawn.

She could feel his sluggish fatigue now and knew its cause. Peter had traveled widely in their years together and she always accompanied him, sharing tents, caves, ship cabins, camps, and rooms in strange palaces and countries. He never slept as well if she was not near.

"So, what other news? Have you solved the chicken problem?"

Peter threw up his hands in horror. "Always chickens with you, Lady!"

"Narnian dumb chickens are superior to any other, High King. Anyone of discernment will tell you thus."

"By Aslan, you are a jester, Dalia." Peter wagged a finger at her and she swatted it. "If you ever so imitate King Lune in the Archenland court, you shall start a war with our good neighbor."

Dalia smacked her lips as the Archenland monarch would after an especially fine meal. "Granted, I do not understand the Calormene fascination with chicken _feet_ , but the rest of the dumb Narnian chicken is quite delicious."

"I have never seen you refuse chicken feet!"

"Not when attached to the rest of a Narnian dumb chicken," she admitted with another lick of her lips.

He laughed again. "Taking your good advice, Dalia, we are experimenting with raising dumb chickens away South."

"Excellent! Doing so would put them closer to the Archenland and Calormen markets."

In their discussions, Dalia had argued that the structure of a compromise was already present – Calormenes preferred the chicken legs and feet, the Archenlanders the white meat. Both would pay the premium prices for Narnian birds. But, how to satisfy both markets from a single bird and how to accomplish the transportation?

"When your maternity is over and Fooh and Beehn weaned, we must travel south so that you may taste the birds grown there and see if they are worth this effort," Peter said.

He brightened, becoming more animated, and launched from one of her favorite subjects to one of his. "I went down there to help set it up. While there, I met the Hermit of the Southern March. A fascinating man, by Aslan, part magician. He has this marvelous mirror that allows him to see things, far and wide, from one end of the Known Lands to the other and beyond."

"Truly?" Dalia exclaimed, knowing so well why Peter's eyes and voice lit with the wonder of such a marvel. "To see distant friends and places would be brilliant. Could the Hermit be persuaded to share the magic with you?"

"No," Peter said, regret and fondness both in his tone. "How well you know me that I did try, and tried everyone's patience with my time spent with him. We parted with my promise to visit him again and his giving me some excellent directions into the desert."

"Wrasse must have hated that!"

Peter rubbed her ears fondly. "She did indeed, poor thing. Her black coat and build are not designed as you are for such a place."

"It is beautiful, isn't it? Have you begun to see it as I do?"

He looked far off, wistful. "It is strange and foreign, Dalia. Hostile, hot, dangerous, but yes, very beautiful, in its own way."

"How big an escort was forced on you?"

"No Ministers, advisors, and councilors, thank Aslan. Only Wrasse and five others as guards."

"High King, you must be more mindful of your station and security!"

Dalia pitched her voice low and rough in the rolling cadences of the General. Peter responded with a growl and Cat-like swipe of his own. "I am badgered quite enough, Lady!"

She pushed her head under his hand. "Were you able to camp there, at least? Spend one night under Aslan's Stars?"

"No, unfortunately. Still," Peter trailed off, admiring now in memory alone the vista of golden sand and shimmering heat, "it was spectacular."

"Any word from the scouts you sent West, beyond the Great Waterfall, into the Wild?"

"You wish to walkabout with me there as well, Dalia?" Peter was so teasing and playful, her heart skipped a wretched beat.

Peter, of course, sensed her inner flinch. His hand paused at her neck. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said, too quickly. "Of course I wish to explore the Western Wild. We have been plotting to send those scouts for months."

Peter made a small disagreeing sound, but let her prevarication pass. She would not be able to hide it much longer, not when they were as intimate as they were.

"One of the Raptors came back with reports of green forests so dense they could not see the Great River that flows through them."

"What an interesting observation," Dalia mused. "The original histories tell that the Lord Digory, the Lady Polly, and Fledge were able to follow the Great River to the Garden."

"Yes," Peter said, returning to fondling her ears. "One would assume in the intervening age the forests must have grown up around the River."

"It will be quite the task then to follow the Great River to its source."

"Another adventure," Peter said softly, "waiting only for those willing to undertake it."

"Through a jungle would be more to Wrasse's liking," Dalia teased, flicking her tail.

"You would cope for the thrill of the discovery alone, Lady," Peter said. "I know you _that_ well."

"I am not fond of mud," she chided. "You know that as well." It was the one area on which they disagreed. Peter loved mud, mortar, and other sticky, gooey stuff that Dwarfs used to hold things together. Dalia preferred good, clean sand that did not stick to her fur.

"Well, that mud is what will hold the bricks and stones together that will pave the road south for your chickens," he teased in return.

"Truly?" she burst out, elated for him. "You have begun the work?"

Improving the way between Archenland and Narnia had been a priority for Peter seven years passed. The project represented a confluence of things that were very important to him – the planning and construction of it, the industry behind it, the good will and relations that would flow from it and the easier travel upon it.

"We broke ground last week. I laid the first spadeful myself, and spent the better part of a day with the Dwarf work party ferrying gravel."

She twisted in his lap, enduring a complaint from Fooh who had not finished his meal. Bending his head, he accepted her offered kiss. "Congratulations, Peter," she said warmly. "You were saving that up, were you not? You wished to surprise me!"

"I have no secrets from you, Dalia. It was only a matter of time before you learned of it."

Again she balked, for now he was asking impliedly what was concerning her. Peter knew she was withholding something. _Oh my hearts, it would break us both if our Duty permitted such a luxury_.

Dalia turned back around, delaying, administering a perfunctory lick to Fooh, who promptly settled again. "I am certain I would have heard Wrasse complain of the mud, eventually."

The purrs from Fooh and Beehn dulled; the cubs were sated and snugged up against her, dozing. Peter leaned against the wall of the den, cradling her head in his lap, she cradling the cubs.

"Can you tell me now?" he finally asked.

The welling silence was broken only by the faint, soft sounds of Fooh and Beehn.

"Is it so ill?" Peter asked, gently prompting.

A deep breath. Then, Dalia released the hated words that could never be taken back.

"Would you release me from my Palace Guard's oath?"

Peter's hand paused on her head. Whatever he had expected, this had not been it. She felt the powerful emotions, surging up, and then smothered with a poorly executed lie. "I'd give you anything, you know that, Dalia." He paused and Dalia knew traitorous words of courtesy were catching in his throat. "You have only to ask."

He did not question. There was no pleading, no demand for explanation, no compulsion. There was only his immediate, gracious acceptance as she betrayed his trust.

The explanation she had rehearsed was hollow and selfish now. Though her excuses hid a higher purpose, they seemed all the more inadequate for it. "I am a Great Cat."

"The Greatest," he murmured, "save The Lion."

"Aslan did not make me to be social, Peter. I'm meant to be alone." She nudged Beehn, sleeping next to his brother. "My boys will grow up together and spend their lives together, as you and Edmund do. But, female Great Cats are solitary."

He shifted against her, the embrace tightening as Peter thought on this essential fact of her very being. Quietly, in a voice heavy with guilt, he asked, "Has it been so hard for you, Lady?"

She had always given him honesty; she could not shy from it now. "I have never regretted being your Guard, Peter, never for a moment. Being your Guard has been the greatest gift of my life."

"Until Fooh and Beehn."

They both knew he spoke the truth. She did not want to pain him further by confirming it.

"But, yes, my Love, it has been hard and my service has come at great cost."

Even so, she would have continued as the High King's Guard, had intended to continue. But, a duty even greater called to her and she could not ignore it as she long had.

The practiced lines and the truth they concealed were easier now. "I am not like you, Peter. I am not meant to be around others so persistently. Every day I am by your side, in your meetings, dealings, and functions, I am at war with myself. It will kill me, Peter, if I continue."

"And it is a credit to your integrity and strength that I never knew it, Dalia. I want your happiness, Lady, more than my own."

Dalia rubbed her head hard against him, pushing Peter back, relishing the touch, the contact, the connection between them, that she would now sever, both for her sake, and for his. By leaving, she might both preserve her own sanity, and, for the good of Narnia, free him.

"If you will, Peter, I would train my sons to take my place as your Guard. They will be for you what I cannot be."

He smiled, though it was thin, bitter and sad. "There is a good symmetry there. I would like that very much."

She nuzzled his eyes shut. "Might I still Guard your sleep? Would you permit me that, though I otherwise forsake you?"

In his honesty, he would not deny that she was breaking her oath. "You would stay on as Night Guard?"

"I would, if you wish it. I cannot Guard your steps, Peter. If you will let me, I shall Guard your sleep."

He nodded, no words adequate at this moment, and turned away from her to curl on the floor, alone, his back to her. She let him go.

The shadows lengthened and Dalia dozed, Peter, Fooh and Beehn beside her. The cubs worn from youth; Peter worn with duty beyond his years and disappointment. She wrapped her body close to the three of them, and licked her cubs clean and purred encouragement to Peter as he dreamed unrestful dreams.

When she scented Wolf and Queen, she drew away from Peter, so that they would not perceive the intimacy between Cat and King. After so many hours, Wrasse would have deemed it appropriate to permit the Queen Susan to approach.

There was a quiet knock.

"Come," Dalia said just softly enough for Queen Susan's Wolf Guard, Lambert, to hear.

Only Queen Susan entered the Den, carrying a blanket. Dalia heard her order Lambert to join Wrasse out of the range of hearing.

"Good evening, Queen Susan," Dalia whispered politely. "Forgive me for not rising."

"No forgiveness needed, Lady. You are quite occupied."

Queen Susan quietly shut the door and then crossed the room to set the blanket over her brother, fondly and with care. "When I did not see Peter for tea, I knew he was still here," the Queen whispered.

"I will send him to his bed when he wakes," Dalia replied. "Though, it will be very late."

Queen Susan came closer so that they might confer without waking the High King.

"He has missed you very much, Dalia."

"I have missed him as well," she replied.

Queen Susan gazed long upon her brother, asleep on the floor of the Cheetah's den. Dalia knew what the Queen would say when she finally said it.

"I think Peter may judge others by the high standards you set."

She had her answer ready. "No less than Lambert to you, Queen Susan, by my judge."

Lambert was Canine and so necessarily deficient simply by design and through no fault of his own. Yet, Dalia had to concede that of all the Canines she had known, Lambert was the one most worthy of her grudging respect.

Queen Susan neither admitted nor denied her charge. "Your judgment, Dalia, as always, is impeccable."

Dalia hesitated. As long as she had been in the company of all the Monarchs, she was unaccustomed to speaking to any human, save Peter. Blinking, feeling her tail twitch involuntarily, she knew she was communicating and that the Queen was astute enough to perceive it.

"Yes, Good Cat?" the Queen asked.

She was resolved. What the Queen Susan had just said reaffirmed the wisdom, nay, necessity, of her decision.

"Nothing of concern for you, Queen Susan. A private matter only."

Queen Susan paused, waiting with the stillness she might have learned from her predator Guard. Dalia however, knew how others felt compelled to fill a silence. She had learned the trick of it observing Queen Susan herself and King Edmund. Finally, the Queen graciously nodded her head. "Thank you, Dalia, for guarding my brother so well."

It was full dark when the cubs woke, temporarily full of noisy excitement for the large, strange smelling toy still in the room with them. Peter tried pulling the blanket over his head with a grumbling complaint but the cubs would have none of it.

Fooh grabbed the blanket in his teeth and began pulling; Beehn pounced on the exposed face of the High King. Dalia had to nudge the cub out of the way before he managed to sink his sharp little teeth into Peter's ear.

"So much for my nap!" Peter said with a mock growl of his own, and rolled up to a sitting position. He began tugging lightly on the blanket, the other end still firmly locked in Fooh's jaws. Beehn launched himself at his brother; the large, King-sized toy now forgotten.

"Best gather that up, or you'll be explaining both stolen yarn and a shredded blanket to Mrs. Furner."

"Susan was here?" Peter asked, quickly drawing the blanket's loose ends in and free from pouncing Cheetahs.

"Of course."

"How long?" He looked about, dazed. The windows placed high in the walls were black.

"Some hours. You have missed both tea and dinner, and the Night Guard will be coming on duty soon."

Peter's face set in a thin line, no doubt as he recalled the Many Important Things he should have been doing. Then, he slumped, the benefits of the sleep gone. Reaching over, Peter cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks.

"I did not dream it, Dalia?" he asked softly. "You asked me to release you from my service."

She blinked and would look away if she could.

"I did. Once Fooh and Beehn are trained and ready to take my place, I would leave your service and the day duties of the Palace Guard."

Peter bent down and kissed her head. "Then, on that day, I shall release you. Whatever I may do to ease your burden, you have only to ask."

Dalia awarded her King a whiskered kiss. "Thank you, Peter. Please come again soon that Fooh and Beehn will come to know you as I have."

It was a lie, but they would both pretend otherwise. No one would ever know him as she did.

"Certainly."

She gave him a push, not so rough that he would topple over again, fresh meat for Fooh and Beehn to gnaw upon. "Best you be gone, Peter. Wrasse has been out there a very long time and Queen Susan will only be able to hold off petitioners for so long."

Peter rose lightly to his feet and she accepted another long stroke, from tip to tail.

"Good night, Friends." Taking advantage of a momentary distraction when the cubs were tangled in the stolen yarn, Peter slipped out the door.

Dalia wrestled and played with the cubs, wearing them out so that they would sleep soundly through her short absence. They nursed again, and with those sharp teeth, Dalia thought it might be time to speak to the Physician and to Bastet, in charge of Feline feeding at the Yard, about introducing solids. She hadn't wanted to seem too inexperienced; it really was unheard for a Cat her age to be with her first litter. The situation had been the same with Briony, Queen Lucy's Guard; the demands of a Royal Guard made devotion to anything save one's Monarch nigh impossible.

Once Fooh and Beehn settled, she bathed them and snuggled with them until they fell soundly asleep. Releasing the latch on the door of their private den, she slipped away, walked the halls of the Tree silently, and went out into the cool, Narnian night.

Dalia stretched, scratched politely, and sat on the path from Cair Paravel, to wait. It was not long. At this late hour, the Guard had already changed and Lambert had likely been biding his time, waiting until he saw the High King return from the Tree.

She scented him first of course, the musky odor of dominant, male Canine. His yellow eyes blinked in the dark, and then devolved into the Wolf himself. Dalia looked carefully about, with nose, ears, and her Cat eyes. She thought the gossiping Crows would all be in the Roost by now, but one could never be certain.

Lambert too was searching the area; his eyes were not as hers, but she had to concede his superior scenting.

"It is done then?" Lambert asked very quietly, coming to her side.

"Yes."

The Wolf sighed. "I am sorry, Dalia."

"I am foresworn," she said simply.

"Yes," Lambert agreed, "though for a greater cause."

"I do not see you offering to be released from _your_ Oath, Wolf," she said bitterly.

"Would it serve our greater good, I would," he responded calmly. "My Queen is of a different ilk than her brothers. I fear more that her devotion to Narnia and commitment to act where the High King has not may lead her to a rash decision that weakens us further still."

Dalia considered this, as blunt and honest an assessment as she had ever heard from Lambert. There was even a slight critique of his Queen, unheard of in a Guard. Whatever a Guard thought was between the Guard and Monarch alone. Yet, she had observed Queen Susan for as long as Lambert, though she had served the elder brother. "Yes," she finally and grudgingly agreed. "I can see how such a thing might arise."

They sat together, for a time, listening to the night. It was not within her nature to need or seek the comfort of another creature, particularly not a Canine. Here, however, at this moment, it was one Guard to another, sworn heart, body, and mind to a Monarch of Narnia. To a point, the Oath transcended even what Aslan had made – but only to a point.

"Remind me, Wolf and Guard, why did I do this?"

"And I ask you, Cheetah, did the High King or My Queen once again say something that made you think his attachment to you could be an impediment to his attachment to others?"

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then that is why. Narnia needs the stability of succession, Cheetah. Without a plan in place, we risk the uncertainty of Jadis all over again."

She shuddered for the memory of it; Jadis' reign had been predicated upon an illegitimate claim of Human blood when she had not had a drop of it. Her reign had only ended with the fulfillment of the prophecy and the arrival of two Sons of Adam and two Daughters of Eve – Humans. Humans served now and many native Narnians believed that the country prospered only when a Human sat on the throne. _How much Human_ was open to debate, but it was not a debate those who had suffered through Jadis wished to revisit in this generation.

"Our Kings and Queens are all of age by any reckoning," Lambert continued. He could really argue as well as a Cat. "We cannot continue to be foolish Fauns about this. To the extent our Monarchs have difficulties, we are obligated to aid them as best we can. Where there may be impediments, we must remove them."

"For Narnia's sake," Dalia said.

"Yes," the Wolf said. "We do this for nothing less than the very future of Narnia."

Dalia bowed her head. "Then so it shall be."

* * *

**_Next up, Chapter 6, Jalur and the Just King_ **

Why yes, I _am_ playing with Mary Sue (except she's a Cheetah), as well as the dependence that could develop between the Guard and the Guarded. To that end, and as suggested in some of my other stories, the Good Beasts of the Palace Guard are not above manipulation for the good of their Monarchs and for the good of Narnia. How much manipulation can be ethically justified in pursuit of significant national interests is a question I'm exploring in _The Queen Susan in Tashbaan_ and comes to full fruition in _Harold and Morgan: Not A Romance._

I've posted a link on my profile and LJ to the Pflieger article on Mary Sue and we've been dissecting the poor girl on the NFFR boards as well. She's an interesting character, our Mary Sue.


	6. Jalur and the Just King, Part 1

**Chapter 6: Chapter 6 Jalur and the Just King Part 1**

**The Palace Guard** ****  
I promise to never cause you harm and to protect you from all ill and danger.  
I give you loyalty with love, respect with fealty, and discretion with honour.  
I place my body, mind and heart in service to you.  
I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends.  
-Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs

* * *

_I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends._  
-Fourth line, Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs

* * *

In Year 7 of the Golden Age, the same day as the previous _Chapter 5,_ _The Cheetah Guard of the High King_.

* * *

"Tash's Hell," the voice shouted, "I do not want another Canine!"

Padding toward Captain Roblang's barrack office, Jalur swiveled his ears and inhaled. _King Edmund_. He knew immediately this was not a conversation intended for him to overhear. Still, privacy was difficult to achieve in the barracks, even if the door and windows had not been open. Nor was the King being discreet. The Tiger wondered if it were disloyal to think so. He did not mean to overhear; given the circumstances, however, it was difficult not to.

"King Edmund, please, let us discuss this," Captain Roblang said, and Jalur could hear the effort it took for the Red Dwarf to remain calm, a near pleading quality in his voice. There was another in the barracks as well, a Centauress, Jalur discerned, mixing as they did that combination of Human and Equine.

"There is nothing to discuss. You cannot ask me to take a Canine after Merle. I refuse. I will take Otters before another Canine. I won't do that to his memory."

Jalur's ears and whiskers perked and swiveled at the mention of Otter. He had never actually eaten one of the weasels, of course, but it was pleasant to imagine biting down on one. _Very pleasant._ Consideration of all the possible chewy and crunchy bits distracted him through several minutes of the heated argument between King Edmund and the Arms Master.

"Then, would you consider the Cheetahs, Chase and Gunju? They are brothers and…"

"Peter has Cheetahs, Captain," the Just King said, both weary and abrupt.

"Well yes, but…"

Jalur could imagine the Just King's hand slicing down, cutting his Captain off. He had seen the King act so during strategy conferences, signaling the end of the debate and the time for a decision. "A Cat, any other Cat, is fine, Captain. That Tiger… the one who was with me with Merle. I'll take him…"

Jalur's ears flattened in horror. He was only able to relax his lashing tail when he heard the same horror echoed in Captain Roblang's voice. "Sir Jalur! Your Majesty, I think not. I beg you, do not ask him."

"Fine!" King Edmund bit out. "Assign me whomever you wish, Centaur, Hare, or Hedgehog. But no Canine, and no Cheetah. Am I clear?"

Sensing the argument was ending, Jalur slunk around the corner out of sight, and so was beyond poor Human perception. A moment later the enraged King stormed out of the building; the Centauress, Eirene, Jalur thought, clopped along behind. The Centauress must have been assigned as temporary Guard to King Edmund after Merle's death.

Jalur felt a prickle of alarm for Eirene was wholly oblivious to his lurking presence on just the other side of a wall. Centaurs and other near Humans simply did not have the scent, ear, or sight of a Good Beast. Using a near Human defeated the whole point of this Guard exercise as he well remembered when this business had started over six years ago. A Beast Guard would have sensed a Tiger lurking outside the building; a Beast Guard would have known someone overheard the entire of the conversation, in fact.

Intolerable, really.

With the furious King and the Centauress gone, Jalur heard Roblang muttering creative curses and stomping about. Jalur made his way back to the door. It was not in a Tiger's' nature to politely announce one's presence – save for mating, a male Tiger such as himself either pounced upon prey unawares, or avoided other beings entirely. He tried clearing his throat, but it sounded rather like a strangled roar.

The Dwarf spun, around a scowl on his face. "I was worried you would show up too quickly, Jalur. How much did you overhear?"

Jalur entered the barrack office, raising his tail and blinking his greeting, and sat. "Enough," he replied. He tucked his tail around him, not wishing it to communicate to the perceptive Dwarf how unsettled he was by what he had overheard. The room smelled of angry Human, frustrated Dwarf, and protective Horse. Belatedly, he wondered if he should have provided some other greeting. But then, Captain Roblang had not offered a greeting either; the Dwarf had mimicked Great Cat aloof behavior and blinked with his indirect gaze.

"The Just King is not himself," Roblang, said, moving across the office to shut the door. "No one else about?" The Dwarf peered out the window, looking for gossiping Crows.

"No," Jalur said.

"Keep a nose out, would you?"

Jalur exhaled a chuff. _Of course I will_.

"Not a Cat of many words, are you, good Tiger?" Roblang said, slamming the window shut.

That really warranted no response at all, so Jalur did not give his Captain one. Pointless conversation, really.

Roblang crossed back to his duty desk. "I wanted to speak with you about that business with King Edmund and Merle."

In the long pause that followed, Jalur realized his Captain was expecting a response. "It was a Soldier's duty, Sir," he finally said.

"More than mere duty, Sir Jalur. You found Merle's body, at some risk to yourself and helped the King Edmund return the loyal Hound's remains back to Cair Paravel. To hear tell, you respected our King's grief and didn't prattle."

"Prattle?" Jalur echoed coldly, unable to control the irritated twitch of his tail.

The Dwarf smiled, a near Human-like mannerism Jalur knew was associated with pleasure or amusement.

"Indeed," Roblang said. "Regardless, and no disrespect to Eirene, but if a Good Beast had been here, he or she would have alerted us when you neared."

Jalur nodded his head in agreement and added, "When they left, she did not sense I was around the corner."

"What was your strategic assessment of that?"

Jalur did not like these sorts of questions that could not be answered with a simple "yes" or "no." Maybe if he did not answer right away, Captain Roblang would forget the question. The Red Dwarf, however, continued to look at him, indirectly, blinking slowly, patient and regrettably expectant as well.

"The King was vulnerable."

Roblang nodded. "Thank you, Sir Jalur. And so you perceive my dilemma of finding a new Guard for King Edmund. Wrasse would be appropriate, at least temporarily, but she now Guards the High King during Dalia's maternity. King Edmund will not accept the Canines and Cheetah bachelors who could serve well and willingly. Others who would serve are suited by temperament but not ability, such as Centaurs, Satyrs, and Dryads. Still others, such as Bears and with few exceptions, Great Cats, are suited by ability but not temperament."

Again, Roblang waited, as if expecting some response.

"Is there an Order here, Sir?" Jalur finally asked.

The Dwarf sighed. "No, Jalur, there is not. _Not yet._ " Jalur's ears and whiskers twitched forward perceiving the emphasis. His Captain was trying hard to tell him something of import. The Dwarf continued, "The King Edmund is very clever and subtle. If he wants something, he gets it, sooner or later."

Jalur growled, disliking this blunt critique of the Just King. Their dealings had been few, mostly during campaigns in the North, some skirmishes with pirates and Witch remnants, and the marauders who occasionally spilled down from the Western Wild. The King Edmund was a cunning leader and Jalur very much appreciated the Cat-like quality of the Human's strategic mind. Jalur had noted a regrettably and occasionally juvenile humor he did not fully understand and certainly did not appreciate. Still, the Just King did not, as some Humans did, rattle on – over much, at least.

After the ambush where Merle had fallen, it had been a painful, and silent trek back to Cair Paravel, just himself, a very unwilling horse bearing the Hound's broken body, and the King mourning the death of his long-time Guard.

Roblang rose from his seat with an irritable wave of his hand. "You misunderstand me, Good Cat. I am trying to warn you, for as you overheard, you have come to the attention of the King Edmund. When his grief abates, he will consider you as a candidate to be his Guard. And Jalur, I know you, when that day comes, you will agree to do so, even if it is not in your best interest."

Jalur growled again. Of course he would agree. He had a Soldier's duty of obedience to his liege. He did not wish the familiarity and society of a Guard, at all. Still, personal desires were wholly irrelevant. If his Monarch asked, denying him was rank insubordination.

The Dwarf drew closer. "I tell you this, my Soldier. The relationship between a Guard and his or her Monarch is a very deep business, and as an outsider to it, I can't begin to understand the depths of it. You were a disaster for the Queen Lucy when first we began this Guard."

Displeased at this reminder of his failure, even as he had been thinking on it himself, Jalur twitched his tail, and stared back unblinking and hostile at the Dwarf, a warning growl in his throat.

Captain Roblang though knew well how to deal with all under his command. Jalur had seen how the Dwarf communicated with Faun, Gryphon, Canine, Feline, and the many others in his units, always respecting the nature of that Beast or other Being. Roblang was speaking to him as a Cat would, indirectly.

"I am not giving you an Order, Jalur," Roblang said carefully, averting his gaze, pulling in on himself to reduce his perceived threat. "I suggest that before this goes too far that you volunteer for **_temporary_** duty to the King Edmund. If you are already so situated, his Highness will be more amenable to my advice. I'll make sure he understands that a male Tiger as Palace Guard is unwise for all concerned."

 _And I may take such opportunities as arise to reinforce the point and so the request will never come and I need never accept a post I do not wish._ Jalur did not say such a thing, and neither did his Captain. They both understood the unspoken point well enough. Nor did Jalur comment upon a Captain's slight manipulation of his liege. It was a most Cat-like strategy and Jalur approved of it.

Jalur stood, and stretched as far as his body would allow in the office, scraping his claws on the stone floor. "Captain, I will volunteer for temporary assignment as Palace Guard to King Edmund, if you will."

* * *

At the change from Night Guard to day shift, Jalur entered Cair Paravel. Sleepy Bears, the Great Cats, Owls, and some of the other nocturnal staff were filing out, weary and blinking, replaced by fresh (and noisy) Dogs, Fauns, Satyrs, Dryads, Dwarfs and Centaurs. It was still early but already Jalur could smell the foods (breads and meats) from the kitchens and hear the bustle in the gardens of the Moles. The Birds had been at it for hours. Always singing of themselves and fighting with one another, they were, in Jalur's opinion, among the most self-absorbed in all of Narnia.

He had been in the Great Hall before and the Council Room. After his ill-fated stint as Guard to Queen Lucy, he had not willingly entered the Palace unless under very specific orders to do so.

An officious, smart-looking Faun exuding an air of competent authority was at the massive front doors conferring with another, tired-seeming Faun.

With a glance in his direction, the two Fauns exchanged their good-byes, for night shift to day shift they plainly were. The night Faun, Mr. Noll – a clever and very competent swordsman, Jalur recalled from time in Roblang's army company – nodded in his direction and with a muttered "Good Cat," trotted away.

"Good morning, Sir Jalur," the Faun said briskly. "I am Mr. Hoberry. Welcome to the day Guard."

Was he expecting a response? Knowing when to speak was unexpectedly stressful. If one was alone, there was never any expectation of speaking to anyone.

"Thank you," Jalur decided on after a long pause.

"The King Edmund has spoken very highly of you after your assistance to him. He was very close to Merle."

The Faun sighed and continued on. _A prattler_ , Jalur decided, who spoke even when it was not necessary to do so. "Alas for the Hound and for my King. Great-souled as Merle was, neither was he the sharpest point in the quiver."

The Faun acted as if expecting Jalur to say something.

"I am temporary only," Jalur decided upon. No harm in emphasizing _that_.

"So I understand," Mr. Hoberry said, and Jalur had the sense he was missing something that was implied. "I will show you to the Monarchs’ private wing presently. Under security protocol, none are permitted there save our Kings and Queens themselves, their Guards, myself, Mrs. Furner, the Physician, and any Good Beast or Creature in the company of myself or Mrs. Furner." Aggressive, staring him directly in the eye with a power that showed the Faun as considerably more than mere housekeeper or custodian, Mr. Hoberry stated, "It that clear?"

Jalur did not speak quickly enough to inject any questions he might have. The Faun turned. "Follow me, please." He clipped away down a hallway off the entrance hall toward, Jalur could smell, the kitchens.

"Mrs. Furner?" the Faun called. A nimble Red Dwarfess, in smell so like Captain Roblang they might be related, emerged from a door at the end of the hall. She was hurrying toward them making "Shhhhh!" sounds. She pushed Faun and Tiger into a tiny office crammed with bookshelves stuffed with broken crockery, fraying linens, parchment, and cookbooks ( _Recipes for_ _Man: Omnivore, Carnivore, Herbivore?;_ _The Joy of Cooking For Thirty;_ _The Dwarf Kitchen;_ _Mastering the Art of Faun Cooking;_ _The Silver Plate_ ). Jalur had to squeeze into a corner as Mrs. Furner closed the door, sealing the three of them into the cramped space.

"Cook is in a heat again, she is," Mrs. Furner said, sounding very exasperated.

"And there is gambling in the Murder and swearing in the Romp," Mr. Hoberry said, with a tut of disapproval.

Jalur felt his hair rise a bit at the Dwarfess' raking gaze. "King Edmund's Guard?"

"Temporary," Mr. Hoberry said before Jalur could say anything.

They all spoke so _fast._

She nodded. "Good Hound, loyal Guard and all that, but, by Aslan, Merle couldn't keep his mouth away from his privates."

A growl rose in Jalur's chest at the indignity of it.

"Just so," said Mrs. Furner smartly. The Dwarfess held her arms out, not that there was much space, and turned about. "Get a good whiff of us both, Friend. We'll be seeing, hearing, and smelling a lot of each other. _Temporarily_ ," she added with a wink and again Jalur had the sense he was missing something important. "Stay away from the kitchens, unless King Edmund is with you. Cook doesn't like hair in the food."

"This is _Narnia_ ," Mr. Hoberry said the weariness of one who has heard this complaint too many times. "There is hair in _everything_."

"Feathers too," Mrs. Furner said with a laugh. "That's why Cook's up a tree. She thinks the Crows broke into the scullery again."

"I would make more effort to retrieve the things they steal if she made less a fuss of it when they do," Mr. Hoberry said with an irritated sniff.

In the momentary pause, Jalur managed to blurt out, "Should I not see King Edmund now?" _Blurt, by Aslan, a Tiger blurting – he could wilt for the humiliation of it_.

"Oh he won't be up quite yet," Mrs. Furner rushed airily onward. _Lion's Mane, another prattler._ Jalur could already feel his jaws clenching and the fur rising in his tail, and his charge was not even yet awake. "Mr. Noll said the King was poring over those navigation charts 'till the wee hours this morning, he was. He'll not be easy until the Queen Lucy is back."

Mr. Hoberry finally addressed him directly with a piece of information that seemed important. "Queen Lucy is expected back today. She is sailing from Galma."

"As to the others," Mrs. Furner rattled on, "the High King returned last night from his trip away South about that road, and the Queen Susan is in residence now, but they will both be riding out shortly to inventory the laying in of the winter stores in Beruna." She pulled a quirk of lead out of her clothing. _Pocket or was it apron?_ Jalur did not remember what it was called. "They'll be more for dinner tonight, Captain, crew, Queen Lucy, and the High King. I'll tell Cook."

"Thank you," Mr. Hoberry said with feeling. "And no fish, if she might be so prevailed upon. The Queen Lucy at least will wish for a change of fare."

Mrs. Furner nodded and wrote the reminder on her own hand with the lead.

"And once Queen Lucy returns, I would expect King Edmund, after he speaks with the ship's company, to be riding the coastline," Mr. Hoberry added.

Mrs. Furner turned toward the Faun and Jalur caught a sensation of surprise. "Say again?"

"Lambert said King Edmund was talking to Sallowpad about flyovers of the Glasswater region," Mr. Hoberry explained, as if that answered for all.

And it seemed to, for Mrs. Furner then answered decisively, "So, you'll likely be traveling by week's end, Jalur. Let me or Mr. Hoberry know of any of your needs and we'll see to them."

"No one else is guest now," Mr. Hoberry said with a sigh. "Though I was not clear as to whether any guests were returning with Queen Lucy."

"Queen Lucy does have a habit of picking up merry strays who catch her eye and inviting them to stay. I'll have two rooms made up in the Guest Wing, in case, and let Cook know." Mrs. Furner paused. "Then again..."

Mr. Hoberry shook his head emphatically, _No_. "I will just set a few extra places at dinner and Cook will never know."

Mrs. Furner injected, "Any word from…"

"Galma? No," the Faun completed her sentence. "Perhaps word was sent with Queen Lucy."

"Think you?" the Dwarfess asked, and Jalur felt he was suddenly and thoroughly ornamental. This was no small feat when a Tiger was squeezed into a corner with Dwarfess and Faun housekeepers. _Housekeepers. He was trapped and surrounded by housekeepers. I could bite them half. I could. Right now. No one would ever know. No Great Cat would ever blame me._

Mr. Hoberry shrugged. "Aslan knows. The High King's calendar, and ours, may alter considerably, depending."

For the second time in as many days, Jalur roughly cleared his throat and his muted growl of irritation rumbled in the close room.

"The King Edmund?" he prompted. _Again._

Mrs. Furner tutted and Jalur had the uncomfortable sensation of being scolded by a middle aged, unarmed, yet somehow very formidable, Red Dwarfess. "Don't get so uppity with us, Tiger. Consider this the best briefing you'll get of what our Monarchs really are about. If it concerns his brother and sisters, it concerns the Just King, so just be patient and attend to those who know better than you."

Chastened, Jalur mumbled, "My apologies," lowered his head and laid his ears back, pulling in on himself. _Uppity indeed._

"Our job is to be two days ahead of the Queen Susan," Mr. Hoberry said, sounding more conciliatory. "As she is three days ahead of her royal brothers and sister, this requires significant staff cooperation and communication, Jalur."

 _See Monarch. Guard Monarch. Eat Threats To Monarch. What was all this other extraneous business?_ "I did not know Guarding was so complex," Jalur admitted, feeling uncomfortably overwhelmed.

"Now you do," Mrs. Furner said briskly. "No moping now, Friend. You'll get used to it, or you won't, but make no mistake, our Monarchs needs us much as we needs them." With a deep breath, she again addressed Mr. Hoberry. "Queen Susan sent messengers out with the Autumn Festival invitations. We'll need to turn to that next."

 _Not now, please_ , Jalur whispered a silent prayer to Aslan. To his enduring and horrifying shock, Mr. Hoberry said, "Jalur, if you would, ask King Edmund whether he wishes for the Autumn Festival responses to go first to Lady Willa and Chief Sallowpad, or if he wishes to review them first."

He knew who Sallowpad was – an old Raven. But Lady Willa? Party invitations? Embarrassed of showing a mere soldier's ignorance, he said blandly, "I will."

"As for the King Edmund's schedule…" Mr. Hoberry was speaking and he and Mrs. Furner both turned as smoothly as any soldiers in formation toward a whitewashed wall in the office, heavily streaked with gray and black marks. On one side of the wall there was a column with drawings of a Sword, a Heart, a small black animal, very like a Rat, and a black Bird. Scribblings, some fresh, some old, some rubbed out could be traced from each of the symbols across the wall.

"Do you read, Jalur?" Mrs. Furner asked, a bit absently for so personal a question.

At least it was a "yes" or "no" question. "Yes," he replied.

"Merle never did learn," the Dwarfess muttered.

"Good to be in the habit then to come here each morning before your shift," Mr. Hoberry said hurriedly. Taking another quirk of lead from a tin cup, he wrote next to the Heart, "Return from G today with tide."

_So, the Heart was Queen Lucy; the Sword was likely the High King._

"You will escort the King Edmund from his rooms," Mr. Hoberry began, writing other cryptic notes next to the symbol of the black Bird. "The Monarchs break fast in the Conservatory until chill sets in."

_The Black Bird for King Edmund; the Rat for Queen Susan?_

"He'll have a security briefing before going down," Mrs. Furner said. "Write barracks, Mr. H, if you would. I'd heard from Lambert that Sir Leszi is threatening to remove King Edmund's head from his neck and serve it at tea if he fails to attend arms practices today."

Jalur growled. Sir Leszi was the Senior Swordmaster. While he greatly admired the Satyr's skill, Jalur would not permit harm to King Edmund.

To his annoyance, Mrs. Furner laughed. "Use that growl on the King Edmund and get your Monarch to the training ground after breakfast."

"Assuming he survives Sir Leszi, he will probably bathe in the Pond after that," Mr. Hoberry said.

Jalur licked his jowls in anticipation. The bathing Pond meant Otters. It was a good thing he had eaten last night in the Yard. He'd been enjoying some very pleasant dreams of munching down upon squealing, obscenity spewing weasels. The taste in his dreams had been a bit gamey, though not unpleasant; the pleasure had all come in silencing the foul curses.

Mrs. Furner laughed again. "No drooling, Tiger. But do take a swipe at the brutes for us, will you?"

"With pleasure, Mrs. Furner."

_Perhaps this will not be so bad._

"I'll have someone take a change and towel to the Pond," Mr. Hoberry said.

_Then again. Change? Into what? Towel?_

Mrs. Furner must have sensed his confusion. "Humans remove clothing when they bathe and after a morning with Sir Leszi on the training grounds, King Edmund will need clean clothing."

Jalur did not understand any of this. It sounded very complicated for a swim.

"After that, King Edmund will likely retire to the Tower Library, and possibly meet with Queen Susan, depending upon how her inventory of winter foodstuffs proceeds at the rick and silo." Mr. Hoberry wrote more on the wall. "I shall bring tea for him; King Edmund has a bad habit of skipping meals, giving his food to the Rats, and falling asleep in the library, Jalur. You'll need to remind him to eat, and Guard his rest if he sleeps there. Otherwise we all pay the price for his irritability."

"Good thing we're in Autumn, not Spring," Mrs. Furner grumbled.

"Quite," said Mr. Hoberry fervently.

 _I'll be gone by then_.

"And one more thing." Jalur's ears twitched as Mrs. Furner turned away from the board where she had been writing things for King Peter and Queen Susan.

"Yes, about that," Mr. Hoberry said.

They paused as a bell rang, sounding from somewhere on the staff side of the Palace. Three short notes sounded, clear and crisp.

"That's the Night Guard's signal that the King Edmund is rising," said Mrs. Furner. "Mr. Hoberry will show you up." Her look became so direct and so stern and hard, Jalur felt his hair rise. He crouched defensively, ears flattening and pulled his tail in.

"You'll defend your King's life and all that, and good for you. That's your duty it is," the Dwarfess said with a ferocious glare. "But you will guard the King Edmund's secrets too."

Mr. Hoberry was carefully dusting the lead off his hands with a clean rag in the cramped little room. "Sir Jalur, as surely as his safety is your charge, the King Edmund's comfort and convenience are ours. It will be your duty to inform us of his needs so that we may assure they are met. His secrets, and those of Narnia, are another matter. You will be privy to more than you can imagine."

The Faun neatly folded the soiled linen and set it on top of _The Moosewood Cookbook – Meatless Cooking To Satisfy Your Inner Carnivore_. Jalur felt the temperature in the office cool with the Faun's chilly frown. He shrank further into his crouch and stifled the hiss rising in his throat.

Mr. Hoberry continued in his precise and polite way. "If we find you indiscreet or disloyal, the other Guards will hold you down and Mrs. Furner and I shall cut your tongue out with the dullest of knives from Cook's kitchen. Chief Sallowpad will deliver your tongue to the dumb crows and they will eat it."

The three bell tone rang again.

Dwarfess and Faun were staring directly at him, challenging him, menacing, vicious, and entirely unarmed. Jalur could shred each with a single swipe of a claw. Their love of the Four gave these housekeepers the courage to threaten him, a Tiger and Knight of the Table. Jalur was not afraid, but he was humbled, and found respect for two he would not have ever expected. It was admittedly, humorous, were he the sort to have any sense of humor at all.

To their point, however, Great Cats did not gossip, for that would mean speech and Felines preferred to speak to no one at all. The day had not yet begun and Jalur had already spoken more than he typically did in a week.

"I understand," he said, bowing very formally. "I am a Soldier and a loyal Tiger and will keep the King's counsels."

"Best get up there then," Mrs. Furner said with a brisk nod. She opened the door and there was a shriek from the Kitchens. She looked imploringly at him.

He inhaled deeply. "It smells of Canine and Bird," Jalur told the Dwarfess.

"Foxes in the Hen House?" Mr. Hoberry asked, heading in the opposite direction, gesturing Jalur to follow.

"More like a Crow diversion so the Foxes can steal the tea cakes for the commando team to share."

Jalur relieved a very grumpy Hunfrid in the Monarch's wing. "It's about time, Cat," the Brown Bear snarled, and lumbered off. Jalur hissed in reply. _Really_. Bears were so rude, they made Great Cats seem gregarious by comparison.

The King Edmund was speaking to a Rat Doe, he sitting on the stair, she a few steps up so that they talked at eye level.

_Was this the security briefing? With a Rat?_

"And," he heard the Rat say, "Master Roblang has assigned Sir Jalur, the Tiger, to you as temporary day Guard until you select another." She gestured her paws in his direction.

"And here you are!" King Edmund said. "Lady Willa and I have very nearly finished, I think."

Lady Willa was a Rat? Jalur awkwardly cleared his throat. Rat and King both turned toward him.

"Something ail you, Jalur?" King Edmund asked.

The _Already?_ was implied

"No, Sire." Jalur noted that both Rat and King winced. He made a mental note to ask why later and was resolved to find some less growling and strangled way to draw attention to himself. Jalur shook that thought away before it paralyzed him. A Tiger wishing to draw attention to himself was counter to his very being.

"Mr. Hoberry and Mrs. Furner said that the Autumn Festival invitations had been sent and asked whether you wished for this good Lady and Chief Sallowpad to see the responses before you did so."

Jalur was the only one disturbed by so mundane an issue as the other two considered the matter solemnly. This meant, he supposed that party responses were not, in fact, mundane at all.

"We may as well cull them first, my King," Lady Willa said. "See if any raise Rat and Crow concerns."

"Admit it, Lady. You hope some are concerning, do you not?"

Lady Willa's whiskers twitched. "Giants, pirates and cutthroats, King Edmund! We'll show them what for, we shall, if they dare disrupt the Autumn Festival!"

"I know it, Friend," King Edmund replied so gravely, Jalur suspected humor. "Speaking of pirates and cutthroats, any further word from Queen Lucy?"

"No, my King, but that she docks this afternoon," Lady Willa said. Despite that bloodthirsty glee for invading Giants, she was _a most serious Rat_. "We flew as many archers on the Gryphons as the _Splendor Hyaline_ could comfortably hold and we are rotating the Raptors on sentry and surveillance as ordered."

"Strange that after shadowing the _Splendor Hyaline_ a full day, that other ship disappeared in the night. I do not like it, Willa."

Jalur did not like the sound of this either.

"The _Splendor Hyaline's_ a fast ship, King Edmund. It is possible she outsailed the sloop."

"I do not disagree. Aslan was with them, to be sure. A few more hours either way and it might have gone ill for our people." The King began rummaging in his _pockets?_ _Yes,_ _that was the word. Pockets._ There was a distinct smell of foodstuffs about the King Edmund. "Tell Sallowpad to send Birds up the Glasswater and further south, to and up the Winding Arrow. If the ship was flat keeled, they might have sailed up river or put ashore to get under cover."

King Edmund produced something dead, dried, and pungent. Jalur instinctively wrinkled his nose, but Lady Willa squeaked appreciatively. "I shall my King!"

"Also, I will want to speak to the crew and the Captain tomorrow. We shall give them all a night home with their families, but I want them after breakfast in the Council Room."

King Edmund held the smoky, dried meat out and Lady Willa snatched it from her liege. "It is done, King Edmund!" Shoving the meat in her teeth, the Rat mumbled something and scampered away.

Jalur growled and the King glanced up at him quickly. "Yes, Friend?"

"She did not thank you, Sire."

Again, the King Edmund flinched. "She is a Rat, food motivated, and very good at what she does. I make allowances for such things. And speaking of allowances, Jalur?"

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"No more 'Sire,' if you will. Call me anything else, but 'Sire' irks me."

Jalur crouched, flattening his ears, his tailing sliding downward. Not an hour in and already he had offended King Edmund.

"I apologize, your Majesty," he murmured, eyes upraised.

"Apologize only if you persist in it, good Tiger." King Edmund stood, wiping his meat-smelling hands on his clothing. "Tell me, is Queen Susan or my brother still at table?"

Jalur unwound from his defensive posture and sniffed the air rising up from the first floor of the Palace. Feeling even more the failure, he had to admit, "I do not know the scent of the High King and the Queen Susan that well, yet, your Majesty. But, I do not believe any other Human is near."

On the walk back down the stair, now with his Royal Charge, whatever sense of egotistical importance Jalur might have felt was muted and then utterly smothered by a growing horror. Would King Edmund (never Sire) expect him to make conversation while he ate? A Great Cat did not converse while eating. A male Tiger never conversed with anyone by choice, save: _Are you ready?;_ _Are you interested?;_ _Let's mate, then_ ; and, _Thank you, good bye._

This concern about conversation so preoccupied him, Jalur was not as attentive as he should have been. Nor, he realized, did he know anyone's name. He had to follow King Edmund to the Conservatory as he did not know where it was.

There was no one else in the room, though King Edmund tarried at the threshold, looking expectantly.

_Oh, right._

Jalur gave the room a careful review, scent, sound, sight. He smelled food, the lingering presence of Human male and Human female, Wolf (male and more faintly, female), faint Dog, Wrasse, and Dalia beneath that. Rat also lingered, interestingly.

He nodded to King Edmund then wondered if he should have said something. Before he could voice his indecision, King Edmund gave him a thin smile. "Thank you, Friend." He gestured toward the walls. "Take a position that pleases you, but know that Lambert and Briony claim that wall, Wrasse and Dalia before her take that corner and…" Jalur caught a stab of emotion from King Edmund and noted an awkward twitch in his jaw. "That corner," the King said, stabbing the air with a finger, "I would prefer you _not_ take."

Indeed, it smelled strongly of Dog.

Jalur nodded again. "Of course, King Edmund," and he made his way to the opposite corner which would place him between the Wolves and the High King's Great Cat.

_Do I sit, or do I stand?_

King Edmund sat at the table, his back to him, so Jalur decided it did not much matter and sat as well. Catching a faint clip, he said, "Mr. Hoberry comes." It did not smell bad, for Humans. "With your food, King Edmund."

"What, no pony?"

"Pony?" he repeated.

"A joke, good Tiger. You can assume that I do not need to know every detail, but be certain to ask until you can distinguish the important from the ordinary."

"Good morning, King Edmund," Mr. Hoberry announced from the doorway.

"And to you Mr. Hoberry."

There was some drivel about tea, eggs, toast, and a large pile of messages and letters that Mr. Hoberry set on the table.

"Which reminds me, Mr. Hoberry, any Autumn Festival responses may go to Sallowpad and Willa first."

Jalur sensed, rather than saw, Mr. Hoberry's approving nod in his direction. "Thank you, King Edmund. We shall do that."

"Once I speak to the _Splendor Hyaline's_ Captain and crew, I shall be riding out myself," the King was saying.

 _Days ahead of the rest, indeed_. Jalur's estimation of Mrs. Furner and Mr. Hoberry rose further still.

"Jalur!" King Edmund suddenly barked.

Jalur was glad he was attending. "Your Majesty?"

"For a scouting trip, away south, what complement do you recommend?"

He provided a soldier's view of what one wanted when it all went horribly awry, allowing for terrain, speed and scouting. "Myself. Two Hounds, a Centaur competent at bow and sword, one to three Satyrs, Fauns or Dwarfs, depending upon your speed, and two Raptors, your Majesty."

"There are your provisioning requirements, Mr. Hoberry. I shall speak to Captain Roblang about pulling from the roster."

"Certainly, King Edmund; Mrs. Furner and I shall see to it. In that vein, from the messages back from the _Splendor Hyaline_ , has the Queen Lucy mentioned bringing any guests when she returns today?"

"Strays?" the King asked carelessly, fussing with his tea.

"While our Valiant Queen might return with pets, Mrs. Furner and I were wondering more of Human guests."

It was, Jalur realized, very interesting to hear two sides of the same conversation – how Mr. Hoberry and Mrs. Furner discussed these things, and how the same subjects were, in turn, raised with the Monarchs. He found himself listening, in spite of himself, and interested in the broader world of Narnia beyond his Captain's orders.

"Lucy has not mentioned it, Mr. Hoberry, which may mean she has been too preoccupied with the shadowing ship."

"Or, perhaps, she sails alone," Mr. Hoberry said.

"Or, there is a someone or are someones aboard and she does not tell me knowing I will chide her and when she fully expects her friends will have been here and gone before I notice they ever arrived."

"I shall see to your seating at dinner myself, King Edmund."

"Mr. Hoberry, have I mentioned before how you have mastered the art of layered and double meaning phrasing? Are you certain I might not coax you out of the kitchens and into diplomacy?"

The Faun bowed his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "You, of course, have but to command it, my King. And persuade her Grace, the Gentle Queen."

Jalur caught the knowing look from the Faun as the King laughed.

This throat clearing, attention-getting would simply not do. "Si… Your Majesty," Jalur quickly corrected. "I understand that if it convenient, Sir Leszi has requested your presence on the training grounds this morning."

The King snorted. "Tell me, Jalur, that bit about, _if convenient_. Surely, that is your invention, and not the phrasing of Sir Pointy Sharp Stick?" The Just King did not await a response, but continued, "What part of my anatomy did our lethal and humorless Swordmaster threaten?"

"Your head, your Majesty."

"For supper?"

"Tea, your Majesty."

"Jalur, do you share my view that it is but for the grace of Aslan himself that my esteemed, foul tempered, slave driver of a Swordmaster has not been murdered by his own troops?"

"Certainly not, your Majesty," Jalur responded, shocked at the implication.

"But I have so many other important things to do!" the King said, in a high pitched and mocking voice.

"I am certain the High King and the Queen Susan would welcome your assistance in counting root vegetables at the rick and silo today," Mr. Hoberry said quickly. "Should I send word that you will join them?"

The Just King groaned dramatically and waved his letters about. At least one smelled quite foul and made Jalur's nose itch. King Edmund sneezed. "I have important correspondence to see to! The hopes of fair damsels to thwart! Treaties involving Calormen silk to obfuscate! Grazing and mining rights to partition! Foreign ministers to confound!"

"A soldier's duty is to drill," Jalur put in stoutly.

"Drills are dull." There was no mistake; the King Edmund, the Just King, Knight of the Table, appointed by Aslan, Breaker of the Wand of Jadis, was whinging.

Jalur growled. _Really_.

"I shall inform the rick and silo that you will be counting potatoes with the High King and Queen Susan, then?" Mr. Hoberry injected as he gathered up the breakfast dishes.

"I might blame Jalur for being insufficiently persuasive!" King Edmund offered.

Jalur growled again, surprised at his own daring.

"With so menacing an incentive at my back, perhaps not," the King conceded. "Very well, I shall drag my sorry Royal self down to the barracks where Sir Hairy the Horrid might slice me to bloody ribbons."

"I would not permit that, King Edmund," Jalur said.

The rest of the King's meal was, to Jalur's relief, quiet. King Edmund did not offer any conversation and Jalur could think of nothing to say. There was a quiet rustling of parchment as King Edmund read through the correspondence, writing with a lead he had produced from another pocket that smelled of foods. Jalur did not think the King was tarrying needlessly. He was working, and intently and so the Tiger offered no distraction.

As if served by some predator instinct, Mr. Hoberry approached the Conservatory just as King Edmund was returning the lead to his pocket.

"Mr. Hoberry returns, King Edmund."

Jalur sensed the King tense briefly then nod his head.

"Shall I take your correspondence to the Tower Library for later, King Edmund?" the Faun asked, entering with a tray.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Hoberry. I will bathe my wounds in the Pond and return later this afternoon, so I might greet the _Splendor Hyaline_ when she docks."

As the Faun left, King Edmund stood, still holding a tea cup and turned about to stare out the Conservatory windows. Jalur understood the Trees and trees turned color this time of year. He did see some slight variation, but knew he did not see the change as Birds or Humans did.

If King Edmund persisted in dawdling, Jalur was prepared to nudge him to the barracks. Hard, disciplined training was a soldier's backbone. He sensed, however, the King was thinking, not procrastinating, and that a mood had befallen him.

So, Jalur did what Tigers do, and waited, silently.

"Well, Friend, I must thank you." The sound of his cup hitting the plate clinked overloud. With a sigh, King Edmund set both down at the table. "I have never had so productive a breakfast. You do have the gift of silence."

"Your Majesty?" Jalur asked, pleased at the compliment but concerned besides, for there seemed an edge to it.

"Silence was not Merle's gift, Jalur. That is what I meant."

"Oh," the Tiger said, not fully understanding. "Did you wish me to be more," Jalur rummaged about for the hateful word, "talkative?"

The King sighed again and Jalur understood this was really about how the King still missed Merle – even things that were different would remind King Edmund of what the Boar Hound had not been.

"A talkative Tiger?" King Edmund mused. "Surely a polite Otter is more likely?"

King Edmund must have caught the movement as Jalur licked his jaws in anticipation. "Fond of Otters, are you, Tiger?"

"I am, King Edmund." Now it was truancy. Jalur stood and feeling emboldened, gently nudged the King. "Sir Leszi awaits."

Jalur walked alongside his King, treading the familiar path to the training yard, still not permitting himself pride in the position. _Temporary position_ , he reminded himself. **_Temporary_**. He did pay close attention to the names of those King Edmund greeted as they walked.

Working to be more attentive, his concern grew as they approached the barracks. At this time of day, Sir Leszi, Captain Roblang, and even the General might be out, schooling the army. It was too silent.

"Hold your Majesty," Jalur whispered, blocking King Edmund's stride. The King stopped and gave him a questioning look.

Jalur slipped away from the path, into the thicker brush, so that he might approach the training yard unseen. Crouching, he slowly crept forward, ears and whiskers forward, eyes trained for any telltale movement. Inhaling deeply, he tested the air. There were scents, a great number of scents, and as Ibiza the Bloodhound was fond of saying, "Scent don't lie." _Scents aplenty, but no sound_. Flicking one ear, he heard King Edmund make some slight adjustment and there was the whisper of a knife sliding from a wrist sheath Jalur had not known the King was wearing.

The King eased as quietly as Jalur had ever heard a Human go into the brush beside him. "What say you?" the King mouthed.

"We walk into an ambush, King Edmund."

* * *

To follow, **_Chapter 7, Jalur and the Just King, Part 2_**

 

 


	7. Jalur and the Just King, Part 2

**The Palace Guard**

**Chapter 7 –Jalur and the Just King, Part 2**

* * *

I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends.  
-Fourth line, Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs

In Year 7 of the Golden Age, the same day as _Chapter 5,_ _The Cheetah Guard of the High King_.

'Ware below! Potty-mouthed Otters ahead! (But, just a little bit)

* * *

"We walk into an ambush, King Edmund."

Next to him, concealed in the brush, the King hefted his knife. It was a dagger, appropriate for concealment, assassination, and defense until bigger aid arrived.

"Leszi must be irritated with me. How many?"

"I make out six," Jalur told him.

"Very irritated, then. Though if he were truly angry, it would be twice that number." The King searched the training ground, but naturally he could not see or smell anything other than its uncharacteristic emptiness. "What awaits?"

"Sir Leszi himself, another Satyr, Eirene, a Leopard, and…" Jalur growled, "two Dryads."

Dryads were the most difficult of sparring partners for Great Cats. As creatures of the Earth, Dryads were very difficult to knock over and subdue and the scratching permitted in the training yard against certain opponents had no effect on their bark at all. Worse still, a Tiger's preferred tactic of bringing a combatant down and into a choke hold at the throat was pointless – Dryads breathed as trees did, and while they could be drowned or burned, they could not be strangled.

The King arched an eyebrow. " _Two_ Dryads! He knew you were coming!"

"He did. I shall enjoy punishing Sir Leszi for this inconvenience." Jalur licked his jowls in anticipation.

"Hairy the Horrid will want _me_ , Jalur."

"You will need a sword for that, your Majesty."

"Try to draw out the Satyr or Eirene first. Disarm one of them. Satyr would be better; if Eirene is playing with her claymore today, I will have little skill with it. But take whatever opportunity presents first."

"The Cat will know where you hide, your Majesty." _She? He_ , Jalur decided. "I should take him first. With the Leopard down, you can stay concealed until I procure the Satyr's sword."

"You would have me miss the fun of Sir Sour, a Centauress, and two Dryads with naught but a knife?"

Jalur growled. "I'll not suffer Sir Leszi's criticism for permitting such rashness."

"Battle humor, Friend. It is a sound strategy. You know the rules of engagement, of course?"

Jalur bristled at the reminder, even though he knew that as his commander King Edmund had to give this warning. He again growled and crouching even lower, withdrew so that he could advance upon where the Leopard hid. The Leopard would know he was coming but would not be able to communicate that information to the others. Sorting through the scents, he found the Satyr. Getting to him after the Leopard would be challenging.

Jalur _loved_ combat challenges.

Creeping forward, low, eyes and ears forward, whiskers quivering, Jalur let the image of the Leopard fill his senses, while still maintaining the peripheral awareness of the battle mustering around him. He knew the moment the Leopard sensed that a Tiger targeted him – and not just any Tiger. No, this prey _knew_ he was being stalked by the largest Feline in all of Narnia save the Great Lion. Even across the expanse of the training ground Jalur sensed the Leopard's anxiety, the increase in heart and blood, the nervous twitches, and involuntary hiss. He was twice the size and weight of the Leopard. All he had to do was wait for his prey to startle, for startle he surely would. Brave as the Leopard was, he was sorely outmatched by the Tiger, and he knew it.

The Tiger waited.

And waited longer still.

Jalur sensed the Leopard's increasing tension, spiraling upward, the uncertainty, the doubt. The certain defeat.

With a snarl, the Leopard surged out from behind the concealing barrels on to the training ground.

Jalur heard Sir Leszi mutter, "Fool."

The prey was _his_. With a roar, Jalur shot out of the concealing brush like an arrow from bow. He measured the closing distance without a thought, sprang again, and smashed into the Leopard. The other Cat let out a huff of air as Jalur wrestled him to the ground. The Leopard, already winded, shocked, and pinned, let out a weak gasp as Jalur clamped down his throat.

One. Two. Three. The Leopard lashed his tail, the signal that he yielded, and Jalur surged away, now tracking the Satyr, leaping forward to engage him.

 _Fool again. Cats_ leap and jump. _Swordsmen_ should keep their hooves and feet on the ground. Jalur held his position, coiled, and waited for the moment, keeping his eye on the upraised sword arm jumping toward him. Peripherally he was aware of the Dryads emerging from behind the barracks; the Centauress and Sir Leszi both broke cover, swinging their swords.

The Satyr, to his cost, was faster. He closed in, and as he left the ground a final time, Jalur leaped, higher, more powerfully, and lunged at his advancing prey. He closed down on the Satyr's sword arm. In battle, he would have bitten it off, today he settled for inflicting a nasty bruise. They rolled together over the sand, Jalur holding on. Using his crushing weight, Jalur completed their final roll, landing hard on top of the Satyr.

He would not try _that_ maneuver again with a Cat.

"Yield," the Satyr gasped, the sword falling from his hand.

Jalur did not wait an instant. He sprang up and claws extended, flicked the sword across the training ground toward the King who had wisely remained hidden.

A breath later and Jalur felt the air whistle behind as a quarterstaff grazed his hindquarters. _Dryads._

He spun about, not wasting breath on a roar. He knew this pair. Two Oaks, male and female, well-matched, powerfully swinging their heavy quarterstaffs, were upon him. He parried one strike with a paw, claws out, retreated, parried the next, batted away the one after. Right, then left, right, left, the Dryads were a honed team, and so coordinated, would back him into a wall or bush and wear him down at no cost to themselves; Trees did not tire as Mammals did. Catching sight of the King now armed and advanced upon by both Centauress and Sir Leszi was a distraction Jalur instantly regretted. A staff struck him in the side, not crippling, but strong enough to send him rolling toward the brush.

Jalur continued his roll, staying out of the range of the staffs. He could not afford to be down within their reach; it was too easy for him to be pinioned by unyielding branches. _I need to take one out now_. Surging to his feet, the Trees were already moving; the Female on the right switching the staff to her other hand to wind up for a mighty blow that would sweep him off his feet. His reactions were faster. As the Dryad moved the staff to her outside, he saw the opening and jumped, not at her, but at her swinging staff. Jalur bit down, felt the satisfying crunch of wood and jerked his head away, ripping the splintering staff out of her hand.

He landed, retreated, and shook his head, spitting wood fragments. He'd hoped she'd topple over, but that was not to be. If she had been a lighter Tree than Oak, he might have yanked her off her feet. She began sprouting a branch, intending to rearm.

Behind the Dryad he heard the clang of steel as the King now defended against both Satyr and Centauress. That could not end well, but battle was not fair.

The male Dryad came back fast, and Jalur had to rear, claws extended to parry the staff that nearly connected with his shoulder. Dropping back to the ground, Jalur scooped sand between his claws and flung the dirt into the Dryad's face. Trees did not like dust storms. Temporarily blinded, the Dryad swung wildly, quivering, trying to clear his eyes. The Dryad so distracted, Jalur sprang, grabbing the quarterstaff in his teeth and ripping it out of the Oak's hands. His claws connected with the Tree's skin, scraping away bark. He dropped to the ground, flung the quarterstaff away, and ran to intercept the King.

King Edmund was pressed hard, the Centauress and Sir Leszi driving him back to the barrack wall, the sound of furiously deflected thrusts and slashes ringing in the yard. It was personal between the Swordmaster and the King, and Jalur wasn't going to interfere in that until it looked to be a grudge. Which left the Centauress to be picked off.

Jalur would not distract the King to alert him of the plan that would be plain enough in execution.

If Eirene had been a Horse or other herd animal, it would have never worked. But Centaurs had Human eyesight, not Equine, and Eirene did not have the peripheral and rear vision to protect her hindquarters. With her attention forward on the King, as she raised her sword in a two handed grip for a downward slash, Jalur dove, sliding into the dirt, tripping her prancing back legs.

The Centauress cried out in surprise and crashed down on her hind end. Jalur thought Sir Leszi might have seen him coming; the Satyr stepped nimbly out of the way, never losing his focus upon the King raining blows on him.

Eirene struck out; Jalur ducked to avoid a lashing hoof in the head, caught one in the side, and threw himself completely on top of her. They were nearly matched in weight and mass, but a horse body was awkward and vulnerable on the ground, and the back weak. She tried to twist her upper body to bring her sword to bear, but Jalur caught her shoulder with a velveted paw, trapped her horse body under his and pinned her shoulders to the ground.

"I hate it when you trip me, Cat," Eirene said with a wink.

"I hate it when you kick me, Horse," Jalur grunted in return.

He rolled off of her as steel clanged again. Now it was a fair fight between King and Master. Jalur and Eirene backed away, giving the two room to maneuver; he exchanged polite nods with the Dryads as they approached to watch the match as well.

"Sir Hairy! You've lost all your soldiers!" the King taunted, circling warily away from the entrapping barrack wall.

He was fighting two handed, dagger in left, the Satyr's light shortsword in right. Jalur had seen him fight this way before; it made sense here given the arms available to him. The soldiers frequently debated whether the High King's power or the Just King's finesse was the more lethal even as they recognized the comparison was unfairly generalized. Where one came down on the argument usually depended on one's own weakness.

"You have lost all your skill, Lazy Arse," Sir Leszi retorted, pivoting easily to match the King.

"That's _Royal_ Lazy Arse to you, Master Goat. Would you like some tin to eat?" The King drove in hard, striking too fast for Leszi to do more than parry and deflect, unable to exploit any opening for a counter.

The King tried to bring his dagger up, inside and under Sir Leszi's guard to claim first cut, but the Satyr trapped his blade alongside the King's, steel sliding along steel with a protesting screech, and used the leverage to spin himself out of reach.

"You've gone soft, Lazy Arse. Soft quills, soft cushions, soft…."

Sir Leszi dropped his shoulder – _surely a feint_. King Edmund saw it, started left, perceived the trap, and in his hesitation, the Satyr lashed out with a spinning kick that could have taken the King's nose off if he had been slower on the dodge. King Edmund showed his mettle well enough, and moved in with a stab to the ribs, trying to exploit the Satyr's imbalance as he was dropping out of the kick. Sir Leszi danced away again.

"Soft and slow," the Satyr sneered.

"Baaaaaa! Daisies with that tin, Sir Hirsute? "

The King circled again, attacked and retreated, once, then twice, Sir Leszi parrying knife and sword each time.

The third time, Jalur saw that the King was slowly pushing the Satyr back, step by step to where the training ground changed from sand to gravel. On the fourth, the King charged, aiming for the Satyr's legs. Sir Leszi leaped back easily but one hoof landed on the uneven gravel, and Satyr slipped, fractionally. The King lunged, breaking inside the Swordmaster's guard, twisting his sword along the length of the Satyr's weapon, driving it down even as the knife came up to Sir Leszi's throat.

With a thud, Sir Leszi's sword fell to ground. "Yield."

King Edmund held the knife a moment longer, letting the tension string out. Then with a sigh, he lowered his knife and sword.

"Well done, your Majesty," Sir Leszi said with a bow.

The King bowed in return. "Was that slip deliberate?"

"Of course it was; I, unlike you, know every step on this training ground."

"But, of course," King Edmund retorted with a sneer, rubbing his face. "You would have taken my face off with that kick, Goatmaster."

"Surely an improvement for you then, _Sire_ ," Sir Leszi retorted.

"In the move or the decoration?"

"Both, actually," the Satyr said, retrieving his sword. "Sir Jalur!" the Satyr barked.

Jalur flicked his tail. "Sir?"

"Drill with the Dryads, and teach that Cat something would you? I don't want you paying attention while I beat the Royal Lazy Arse to a bloody pulp."

Jalur considered this, and decided he needed clarification. "How bloody?"

"Enough to make him howl a bit."

That did not sound especially concerning in Jalur's estimation.

"Oi!" King Edmund cried. "You are supposed to protect me, Jalur!"

"Better that you be able to protect yourself, King Edmund." To Sir Leszi Jalur said, "But, if you harm him seriously, I _shall_ harm you in kind."

The Satyr twirled his sword. "Think you, Tiger?"

Jalur curled his lip over a fang. "You know it, Swordmaster." He turned his back on the idiotic posturing as King Edmund laughed. _Less talk, more drilling_.

"You there," he growled to the limping Leopard he had so easily overpowered. "Let us see if you do better against a Dryad."

* * *

The King Edmund was not, despite his whinging, in bloody shreds after a few hours with Sir Leszi. He had a slice across his hand, likely due to sloppy blade work. When he complained of it, Jalur growled at him. The King scowled, but it was only a scratch, and nothing that would merit even a visit to a soldier's medic.

As they walked together to the Pond, he felt the King attending to him.

"You are limping, Jalur?"

 _A limp concerned him?_ "I was careless during drills. A swim will take care of it."

The King studied his own scratched hand.

As they crested the rise, Jalur caught the heavenly odor of Otter. He found he was walking faster with an anticipation that grew as they drew closer and the first strains of Otter fighting could be heard.

"You got a face like an effing frog chewing an effing bee, arse face!" one of the little Weasels squealed.

"Yeah, well you got face like busted Dwarf arse."

"Oh go find an arse hat for your arse face you bleeding sod!"

Jalur growled. Otters were so deliciously and insolently foul.

At the top of the hill, he crouched low and slowly stalked forward, planning his attack.

"Jalur?"

He froze. And gulped. And turned to stare at his Royal Charge, having nearly forgotten of his duties in his anticipation of Otter.

The King was smiling and Jalur suspected teasing, but was too eager to do more than growl.

"May I?" he asked, though the courtesy was a sore test of his patience.

"While I might wish to be able to ignore the crime of Otter murder, and no Narnian would blame you, I cannot permit you to harm them, Friend."

Jalur licked his jaws and growled again. "But chase? May I chase them?"

"Certainly!" the King said, with an even wider smile. "Terrorise and bully I would also permit, but keep that between us, if you will?" King Edmund straightened and said in a very commanding voice, "Good Guard, You Shall Keep Our Noxious Cousins From Our Presence by Whatever Means Necessary Short of Physical Harm."

_It is our secret._

Jalur rubbed his nose against his Monarch. "Thank you, King Edmund."

Spinning about, he raced down the hill, roaring his fury at the Noxious Cousins. The Otters shrieked.

"Oi! It's that dickwad Tiger!"

"Buggering hell! RUN!"

"Sod off you effing house cat!"

Snapping and snarling, Jalur scattered the three gibbering Otters. They ran, blubbering, into the woods. It was _very_ satisfying.

He turned slowly about, sensing the area, but the Otters had fled. It was too easy, really. He wished there were more of them and that they were bigger. With King Edmund trotting down the hill after him, Jalur felt a twinge of guilty concern.

"I apologize, your Majesty. I should not have run so far ahead."

The King was laughing very hard and just shook his head.

_I suppose he is pleased then?_

"Sir Tiger, is the area secure from the dread Otter foe?"

Jalur knew that again he was being teased. But, he _had_ acted on express, Royal Order. "It is, your Majesty."

King Edmund bowed. "Thank you, Friend. As reward, please enjoy the Pond. I know that your kind is fond of swimming. I shall join you in a moment."

He now recalled what Mr. Hoberry and Mrs. Furner had said about humans not bathing with their clothes even if they and their fur needed washing. Looking about, he spied the towel and other things on a rock at the Pond's edge Mr. Hoberry had brought for the King. It was a very strange business.

Jalur waded in, but waited to go into the deeper water until the King had tossed his fur-clothing aside and entered the Pond as well. Only then did Jalur paddle about in the cool water. He enjoyed that for a while until he became worried that he would have to make conversation while swimming. Yet, the King had said silence was a gift and he seemed very contented with saying nothing.

This continuing quiet was confusing. Herd animals stayed in herds; solitary animals lived alone. He thought humans were social, so didn't that mean they always wanted to be in a herd? In Jalur's experience, a dumb herd beast separated from its group was very stressed, and made for easy prey. Was King Edmund's separation from his family grouping stressful? It did not seem to be. But if it was, would it not make him vulnerable?

Curious and concerned enough to pursue the issue further, Jalur paddled toward the King.

"May I speak your Majesty?"

"Jalur, you will irritate me if you do that persistently."

"I had assumed Humans were social, pack animals. Yet, you do not speak so much as other Humans. Is this normal?"

The King flipped from his back to stand in the shallows. "Are you asking whether I am normal?"

Belatedly, Jalur wondered if the question was impertinent. He was not sure how to answer. King Edmund frowned, but he did not seem angry and began wading to the shore.

"I am inconstant," the King finally said. "Like many other things, I enjoy the company of others, but on my own terms, when I desire it, and do not wish it foisted upon me."

That seemed sensible, he supposed. Jalur clambered out after him, and remembered to be well enough away so that he could shake himself dry.

The King was using the towel.

"No comment to that, Friend?"

He looked up from his cleaning of his paws. "No." In the pause, Jalur felt again that anxious indecision of unmet expectation. " _Should_ I have a comment?"

King Edmund laughed, though it was not unkind. "Conversation is difficult for you, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Jalur sat to wait while the King put his fur-clothing on. The ones on the rock did not smell as much as the old ones, though why wearing clothes that smelled of Human was undesirable if one was Human was something else he really didn't understand.

Human looked very vulnerable, without fur, claws, or jaws. They could hold weapons to be sure, but they did not have a weapon as part of their bodies. It made Jalur uncomfortable and nervous to see the King this way. He lashed his tail and found a growl rising in his chest.

The King looked up abruptly, frowning, and glanced about. "Is something amiss, Jalur?" He was already moving toward the knife lying on grass.

"No, King Edmund. I apologize for alarming you. However, you seem quite defenseless to me at this moment and I do not like it. Please put your," Jalur almost said fur, "clothing on, your Majesty. I do not wish to see you so exposed."

"Worried the Otters might return and savage me?"

King Edmund was at least going through the awkward motions of putting his fur on again.

"The brutes will bite, your Majesty. Or attempt to steal your belongings. They are no better than Crows."

Something passed across the King's countenance. A sense of tension? Displeasure?

"Crows are an important part of my Province, Jalur. I will not hear ill of them."

Jalur lowered his head, flattening his ears, and felt a snarl come up that he bit back. "I am sorry, your Majesty. I did not know."

"You did not? Perhaps you shall learn more of it, then." As suddenly, the mood seemed to pass. King Edmund seemed very changeable. Gathering up his belongings, the King stood. "Shall we return to the Palace? I have ministers to confound, treaties to obfuscate, and maidens to disappoint, you know."

Was he expected to say something to that? "Yes, so you said." It sounded to be onerous business, in Jalur's opinion.

They struck out on the path back to the Palace.

"How is your leg?" the King asked. "Is it better?"

Turning his head, Jalur stared at and stretched his leg. "It is fine." There was an uncomfortable silence and Jalur felt it was his turn to say something solicitous in return. "Your hand?" he finally asked.

The King flexed his hand. "Fine, as you knew it would be. A scratch, nothing more."

"You fought well, your Majesty," Jalur remembered to say. "You are very skilled."

Unlike with the comment of the Crows, Jalur felt King Edmund was very pleased with the statement. Compliments on a job well done were agreeable, he had to admit, even if it meant being in the company of another who delivered the message.

"Thank you, Sir Tiger. From you, that is indeed high praise. I have not had the privilege of seeing you in such a battle exercise for some time. You were very impressive."

"Thank you, your Majesty."

Praise _was_ pleasing, most especially because it came from King Edmund. Jalur knew there was a swinging strut in this step as they went to the Palace and he thought the King might be laughing at him again. He did not mind, however. The commendation more than compensated for it.

* * *

 

Something Jalur had not fully appreciated was how difficult it was for a Monarch to go anywhere in a timely, efficient way. Everyone wanted to greet King Edmund. Moles, Birds, Deer, Hedgehogs, Foxes, Rabbits, Dogs, Cats. He thought he was sensing a rising impatience in the King Edmund; he hid it very well, and would not have been noticeable at all if Jalur had not been with the King when he had been at his ease.

Recalling what the King had said about company but on his own terms, Jalur understood better what he had meant. A Monarch was not his own person; his time was not his own; his business was not his own. Jalur wanted to growl at the comers, but thought he might be overstepping his role.

Mr. Hoberry magically appeared when they entered the Palace.

"You may tell Cook to remove my head from the tea menu, Mr. Hoberry. Sir Short and Surly has been appeased by my spilled blood."

"Not fatal, my King?" the Faun asked, as King Edmund deposited the wet, Human-smelling things carried back from the Pond into a basket the Faun had waiting.

"Only to my pride and dignity. Sir Jalur acquitted himself very well, by the way, disarming Leopard and Satyr both, _and_ confounding two Dryads, before then taking down Eirene and leaving me to the tender care of my murderous Swordmaster."

"Truly?" To Jalur's astonishment, the Faun gave him a short bow. "Well done, indeed, Sir Tiger."

Still blinking with shock, he managed to stammer a rumbling "Thank you."

"We have embarrassed my temporary Guard!" the King said with a laugh. "Any word on Queen Lucy?"

"A Gryphon advance scout came in a short time ago. They are expected at dusk and he hinted that our Valiant Queen has brought a surprise."

"Surprise?" King Edmund echoed.

"Indeed," Mr. Hoberry spoke so blandly it was impossible to judge if he had any reaction at all. Based upon the morning's efficiencies, Jalur thought that there were frantic preparations underway behind the doors leading to the kitchens and scullery; Mrs. Furner was probably mustering an army of her own to ready the guest quarters.

"I shall send a Bird, Mr. Hoberry. While Lucy appreciates surprises, I know you and Mrs. Furner feel of them as I do."

"Mrs. Furner and I thank you, King Edmund, even if I deny understanding your meaning. We, of course, delight in whatever or whoever might accompany our Valiant Queen."

King Edmund clapped the Faun on the shoulder with another laugh. "I'll take a tea tray in the Tower Library at your convenience, Mr. Hoberry."

Jalur stifled a snort. Even in his very short time in the Palace, already he understood what was involved in a simple request such as the one the King Edmund made so casually. That tea tray had been planned before the King had even awakened this morning, had surely been set out before they had come up the Palace steps and Mr. Hoberry was only waiting for King Edmund to retire to the Tower Library before bringing it.

As they were heading up the stairs, Jalur saw Mr. Hoberry pick up the basket of Human smelling and wet things and trot away with them through the servants' doors. He caught the scent of foods wafting from the kitchens and wondered how many extra places Mr. Hoberry would set at dinner.

The reflection led to a more troubling prospect as he followed the King up the stairs. When did day Palace Guard duty end? Forced society in the evening was appalling to contemplate. Was he expected to endure dinner with Queen Lucy's surprise?

Confirming that the Palace was indeed coming to full battle ready mode in preparation for a surprise, Jalur heard noise echoing from one hall and the strong, present scents of Mrs. Furner and Dryads, and lingering Human scents.

"The Guest Wing," the King explained.

"Yes," Jalur responded, assuming as much and feeling very gloomy about it.

They continued up another flight and then down a long, window-lined hallway. Knowing the drill this time, Jalur pushed the door open at the end of the hall that opened into the great Tower Library of Cair Paravel.

Windows lined three walls and the ceiling. Light poured in. Shelves lined the space going back very, very far, all filled, to top to bottom, with books, scrolls, and parchment. Jalur sniffed deeply and listened.

"There is no one else here, your Majesty," he confirmed.

There was a table to one side, covered with parchment, books, and what Jalur thought were the maps Mrs. Furner had spoken of that morning.

"You are welcome to any spot," the King said with an expansive gesture. He did not say so, but Jalur could easily scent the corner that smelled especially strongly of Hound. He avoided that place and settled himself instead in a patch of sunlight in the middle of the room, between the King's desk and the door.

It was very comfortable.

King Edmund opened a drawer at his desk, removed a small flag, and placed it in a flower pot on a window ledge.

"No questions about why I put a flag in a flower pot out the Tower Library window?"

"Should I be asking questions, King Edmund?" Jalur asked, confused.

The King shook his head. "You are _very_ different from Merle."

 _I should hope so._ Jalur wisely kept this observation to himself.

He looked at the little flag in the window and considered the conversation with Mr. Hoberry. "It is a signal for a Bird?"

"It is indeed. It is a convenient way to communicate with others when I wish to do so."

The now familiar scent preceded the clip of the hooves. "Mr. Hoberry comes, your Majesty."

"That was swift, even for our omniscient Faun!"

"Not omniscient, surely, King Edmund," Mr. Hoberry said, entering the library with a tea tray and food. "Organized, I shall grant."

The King waved his hand toward a corner. "On my strong box is fine, Mr. Hoberry. I do not want to bother moving my papers."

The Faun set the tray down and trotted back to the door. Mr. Hoberry whispered something about "make sure he eats," that only Jalur would hear. Jalur grunted an acknowledgement, his focus elsewhere, for something was suddenly wrong with King Edmund. Something was _very_ wrong.

Outwardly the King seemed as he was. He waved absently, "Thank you, Mr. Hoberry. Shut the door would you?"

Inwardly, however, the King had tensed, becoming sharp and alert.

"King…" Jalur began but his Monarch held up a silencing hand. The outer door was still closing.

King Edmund walked cautiously to the sturdy, iron box in the corner where Mr. Hoberry had put the tea tray. Bending down, the King picked something up off the floor, then carefully searched the area around the box and collected something else. He tried manipulating the door to the strong box and jiggled its latch but it did not open. Jalur caught his sigh of relief.

He spoke very softly. "Jalur, tell me, what scents are in here? Is there anything unusual?"

Jalur really did not know what might be unusual given what permeated all of Cair Paravel – Human Male and Female, Wolf, Great Cat, Hound, Fauns, Dwarfs, Dryads, Bears, Satyrs, Centaurs, and the many other smaller and larger creatures of Narnia.

Following the example of the King's near whisper, he said softly, "There is nothing here that I have not scented in every other space in the Palace," Jalur told him, testing the area again. "Your scent is particularly strong here."

With a sound of flapping at the window, Jalur snapped his head around as a Raven hopped through the window. "Your Majesty!" the Bird croaked.

The Bird cocked his head and Jalur felt his piercing scrutiny. "Sir Jalur, we are well met. I am Sallowpad."

_So this is the Bird who reviews responses to Autumn Festival invitations, knows of the Glasswater flyovers, and speaks to a Rat, the Queen Susan's Guard, Mrs. Furner, and Mr. Hoberry?_

"Chief!" the King cried. "Thank you for coming! Over here, if you will."

… _And is warmly greeted with obvious relief by the King who a moment ago was deeply concerned about two tiny things he found on the floor of the Library._

The Raven flew from the window and landed awkwardly on top of the strong box, next to the tea tray.

"I found these on the floor," King Edmund said.

"Your splints?" the Raven asked, peering carefully at the tiny objects in the King's hand.

 _Splints?_ Jalur had never heard the word before.

"Yes," the King said, sounding very ominous.

"Did you put them in the hinges last night before retiring?" the Raven asked.

"I don't remember. I thought I did."

The Raven was intently examining the whole of the area, the strong box, the floor around it; he flapped down to the floor and looked at the door King Edmund had jangled. Jalur wished to ask what so troubled the two, but even the King was silent as the Bird reviewed the scene. He abandoned the idea of questioning entirely as the Raven gave him a very shrewd and measuring once over.

"Tiger!" snapped the Raven, speaking with so much authority, Jalur felt his ruff rise. "Any strange smells here?"

"No…" Jalur began, instinctively obeying what he immediately understood to be an order.

"I already asked, Sallowpad," the King said grimly. "Also, he is so new, Jalur would not know if anything _was_ unusual."

"Lambert, however, would."

The King nodded. "Yes, we will have to ask him."

_The Queen Susan's Guard is in on these strange counsels as well?_

The Raven took the King's lowered, offered arm and they both went to the desk. The Raven hopped on the tabletop and King Edmund sat heavily.

"Before we discuss this further, I am reminded that I too heard of Queen Lucy's surprise and sent a Bird to overfly the ship and return with a report."

King Edmund barked a rough laugh. "Thank you, Chief. As you know, my sister eschews my views on these matters and persists in picking up her strays without consulting anyone else."

"The Lion guides the Valiant Queen's own excellent intuition, my King. I wish she were amenable to Rat and Crow business as she reads the hearts of others better than any I have ever observed."

"Better even than I do?"

"Reading the minds of others is your greater gift, King Edmund; you do not trust your heart or the hearts of others."

There was a swell of irritation from the King, and Jalur chimed in, growling his disagreement with the Raven.

With a wry glance in his direction the King said, "My temporary Guard takes exception to your blunt critique, Chief."

"What the King feels the Guard reveals." Sallowpad intoned. The impudent Raven fluffed his feathers, to all appearances, completely unconcerned that he had riled both a Monarch and a Tiger.

The Bird tapped his beak on the desk, very near the King's hand. "To business, then. I am reminded of the Rule of Threes; have I discussed this with you before?"

"No, Chief." Between his fingers, the King toyed with what Sallowpad had called the "splints."

"Examine a series of ill events. The first may be explained as bad luck; the second as unfortunate coincidence. With the third, we must begin to look at the possibility of conspiracy."

_Conspiracy! In Narnia? This was madness, surely._

The King's reaction was wholly different, sitting very straight, frowning and attentive. "This," he said slowly, tilting his head to the strong box. Jalur still did not understand what was so worrying about two tiny shards of wood on the floor of the Library and how they related to the iron box. "The ship shadowing Lucy, and…"

"The ambush that claimed your Guard, my King," the Raven said.

The King abruptly stood, setting his chair to rocking so hard it nearly toppled. "Tiger! We will have you Guard from the hall."

The command and the anger, both Royal in their intensity, were painfully clear to Jalur's sensitive ear.

"Of course, your Majesty."

He followed the King to the door, feeling strangely unsettled about the whole of this. Jalur did not know what was going on, he felt he was shirking his duty, yet was painfully aware that in this limited role, there was little he could do. What he might do, was not desired.

"This is not for your ears, Sir Tiger," King Edmund said, sounding harsh. Jalur knew the King's anger was not directed at him; still he did not like it.

Flattening his ears along his lowered his head, Jalur acknowledged the very clear order. "I understand, King Edmund. I will listen only for anything that might harm you."

King Edmund warmed slightly. "Thank you, Friend."

With that, Jalur was pushed out into the sunlit hall and the door closed firmly behind him.

Jalur did not understand why he was dissatisfied. He was alone, he was warm, and he was guarding the King (temporarily). There was no reason he should be bothered. The business was not his concern. It was a matter for Kings and Crows, not Tiger-soldiers. It was not his business. Wasn't. He was Temporary.

Orders were orders and it would have required effort to overhear regardless. He did not. King and Raven were in the room some time when he first smelled, then heard, Human Female and Male Wolf approach. He quickly stood, for that combination could mean only one thing.

"Queen Susan, Royal Guard," Jalur murmured, bowing.

"Good afternoon, Sir Jalur," Queen Susan said, with a smile not consistent with what else Jalur sensed.

Lambert inclined his head in greeting, but was otherwise wholly intent on his Queen. They both smelled faintly of horse and travel. Underneath that was bubbling distress. Something was amiss here, as well.

"The King Edmund is within?"

It was politeness only; of course she knew her brother was there.

"With Sallowpad," Lambert said.

Rapping so smartly on the door she nearly pushed it open, the Queen called, "Ed!"

"Su?" came the King's voice.

Wolf and Queen swept within, leaving Tiger again outside a closed door.

It was very, very hard to not listen in this time. Jalur contented himself with pacing the hall. _I would not wish to be in that room – there are two Humans, a Bird and a Dog. I do not wish to be there in that room. It would be too crowded. I like to be alone. I do not wish to be with two Humans, a Bird and a Dog. I do not wish …_

The door opened suddenly and Lambert emerged, Sallowpad winging out of the room behind him.

"Thank you, Friends," Jalur heard Queen Susan say before the door shut again.

Strangely, it made him feel much better to know that there was some things to which neither Raven nor Wolf were privy either.

"What has happened?" Jalur asked Lambert as Sallowpad settled on the window seat.

Until that moment, Jalur would have thought that it was Felines who had mastered the art of the disdainful look. Queen Susan's Wolf Guard, however, exuded an authority so confident and so like that of his Queen, no one would dare contradict him. He commanded respect with every movement of his head and every inflection of his melodious voice.

"It is not yet your concern, Sir Jalur. You would do well to keep any such speculation to yourself."

Instinctively, Jalur hissed. Lambert had such admirable control, he did not even flinch.

"Enough you two," Sallowpad snapped from his perch on the window seat.

There was a faint scratching from a wall behind; Jalur spun around, perceiving in the same moment that Lambert was both inhaling the scent and was not concerned.

"It's Lady Willa in the laundry chute," the Wolf said. So named, Jalur now also perceived the Rat from that morning. The scrambling sound and Rodent smell increased and then Rat nose peeked out from behind a hanging tapestry.

"Am I late?" the Rat said.

_For what?_

"No," Lambert said calmly. "We only just removed so that my Queen and the King Edmund might confer about the message that arrived for the High King."

Lady Willa jumped from the wall to the floor, scampered to the other side, and clambered up to the window seat next to Sallowpad.

Sitting on her haunches, the Rat looked meaningfully at the shut library door. "Orange propincap?" Lady Willa asked, nosing about as hopefully as if food were involved.

_What?_

"No," Sallowpad said, shaking his black beak from side to side.

"Orange declension, regrettably," Lambert said with a heavy sigh. "Again."

Jalur looked from one somber face to another. Tentatively, he asked, "Should I understand to what you refer?"

"No," Lambert said calmly. "If you did, we would have to kill you." To Sallowpad, he said, "What had you closeted with the King?"

The Raven fluffed of his feathers while the Rat looked on with keen, intelligent interest in her face. "Crow thinks Tinker Tailor may have scrumped the sound," Sallowpad said.

Lady Willa paused in mid scratch and stared at the Raven. Lambert shifted from his stoical sitting stance. Jalur sensed both Beasts were very disturbed by Sallowpad's words. He wanted to reason out this cipher for that was what it must be, but it was too difficult to both understand the words and try to puzzle out their possible meanings.

"We discuss this no more here," the Raven said and Jalur knew that his presence was the reason for their reticence. The Wolf knowing intimate details of Narnia was understandable given that he served the Gentle Queen; that the Raven and Rat were also deep into the counsels of the Just King was not something he would have ever expected.

With a glance that Jalur intercepted, Lambert directed his attention to the Rat and Raven on the bench. "Well, Chief? Lady? What say you?"

"Come here, Tiger!" Sallowpad demanded. "I want a better look at you." To Rat and Wolf, the Raven said, "Get a good smell of him. Tell me what you sense."

Most uncomfortably, Jalur found himself subject to a scrutiny as raking as that afforded to him by Faun and Dwarfess. At least the Wolf would have been a formidable opponent; the Rat and Raven he could have eaten in one mouthful.

"I smell dominant, confident, confused, and conflicted Feline," Lambert said coolly.

"He's a big, grouchy Cat," muttered the Rat. "But better than that Hound he would replace."

"Why the confusion, Tiger?" the Raven demanded.

"I am confused about this interview," Jalur snapped and with mounting anger at being required to justify himself to a _Bird_. Granted, by all accounts, Sallowpad was a very important Bird, but he was still _a crow_. "I am conflicted because…" Here, Jalur had to pause. Why did he feel conflicted?

"I feel conflict because I dislike society."

"Fair enough," Sallowpad said with an approving nod.

"There is more, however," Lambert interrupted with a shrewd look. The Wolf had surely closely studied all comers before the Queen Susan for years; he was no ordinary Canine. "You dislike society, but… what? You did not complete the thought, Tiger."

Jalur could not stop the tail lashing. He thought with disgust that, in contrast, Lambert had controlled many of the typical physical cues a normal Canine would emit. He doubted that this Guard ever revealed what his Monarch feels.

"But I feel that duty to Narnia compels me to be here," Jalur admitted.

"What of secrets?" the Wolf pressed.

It was remarkable. Jalur did not sense that Lambert had moved, yet he somehow managed to make the Tiger feel crowded, even threatened. He would not flinch in the face of this attempted intimidation.

"What of them?" he responded, with Feline contempt. "More important, what gives you the right to question me concerning a decision belonging to the King Edmund? If he were to trust me with his secrets, what concern is it of yours?"

"And you think the Just King would take you as Guard without my approval?" the Raven asked. "Or that I would give it without the consent of this Lady and the Wolf?"

"I'm telling you, he's a sight better than that Dog," Lady Willa retorted.

"Peace, Lady," Lambert rumbled, his fur finally rising. "Do not speak ill of those who have passed to Aslan's Country with as much honor as he."

Lady Willa shook herself thoroughly, completely unperturbed by criticism from a predator so large he would eat her in one gulp. "Good through and through, I don't argue," the Rat said. "But Merle couldn't keep his jowls shut and that _was_ a problem."

 _By the Lion_ , Jalur suddenly realized. These three speak as equals!

To Sallowpad Willa said, "The Tiger is not pretending, Chief. He really doesn't know why you would be consulted on Guard selection."

Jalur growled. Once again, it was as if he was being discussed and yet not even there.

The Rat waved a tiny paw in his direction, ignoring his threat. "His ignorance is pretty remarkable, all things considered. It fits though. He's a soldier's soldier. All the reports say Jalur minds his own business, follows his orders and is loyal as a Lion. He's no gossip."

Reports? These _beasts_ had been spying on him? This was insulting. Worse still was the accusation. If he could laugh, he would have done so. With all the insinuating condescension he could muster, Jalur slurred, "Gossip?"

So stated, it was an epithet that hung mockingly in the air.

"I think not."

The door opened suddenly and Queen Susan stepped out. As she turned, a wad of what Jalur thought was crumbled parchment flew through the air. She deftly caught it.

"Thank you, Edmund. I shall give this to Peter. Dalia's cubs will appreciate it."

The Just King appeared in the doorway.

"Tell Peter I'll get him good and drunk when he gets back from the Tree, and that …" King Edmund's sigh was loud and regretful. "Well, you know what to say, Su."

"Unfortunately, yes. And thank you, for stepping up tonight. I know you often do not appreciate Lucy's surprises."

"Thank you for thinking of me, but it is not a concern. I am glad to do so." He nodded back toward the Library. "I have more to do here. I will be down when Lucy docks."

"Will you?" The Queen sounded teasing. "Sir Jalur!"

He was so startled, he barely managed, "Your Majesty?"

"Thank you for seeing to the most onerous task of Guard to Our Brother."

King Edmund made some disagreeing sound.

"It is not onerous, Queen Susan."

"No? We shall see if you hold to that view when it is time to meet our sister's ship and you try to awaken my brother from the nap he intends to take."

"Susan, do you not have some other target to poke with a sharp, pointy object?" the Just King grumbled.

With a merry laugh, the Queen Susan swept down the hall, Guard falling in step wordlessly next to his Queen.

* * *

As mentioned, this chapter occurs the same day as the previous segment involving Peter and Dalia, Chapter 5, _The Cheetah Guard of the High King_.

The strange code the co-conspirators speak is "Rat and Crow," the cipher of the Narnian Intelligence Service and is referenced in _Black as Rat and Crow, Lost in Translation,_ and other stories.

The whole reason for this story was that Jalur and the Just King hit a chord with a few readers in _By Royal Decree_ and they asked me how they and the other Guards came to be with their Monarchs. I hadn't given a lot of thought to it when Edmund's laconic Tiger emerged out of the shadows on that unpleasant Spring day in those first paragraphs of _By Royal Decree_. So, for you kind people who asked, the reward, such as it is, is a really long story.

Hence, the next chapter follows, _Jalur and the Just King, Part 3._


	8. Jalur and the Just King, Part 3

**Chapter 8 –Jalur and the Just King, Part 3**

* * *

I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends.  
-Fourth line, Guard's Oath Sworn To Narnian Monarchs

 _Most hollies are dioecious; therefore, to assure a fruit crop, plant the pistillate parent (female) and staminate parent (male) plants in proximity. The male plant does not have to be planted too close — within a few hundred feet of the female cultivars is preferred, although pollination has been known to take place when the male and female plants were as much as half a mile from each other. One male plant should pollinate eight to 25 females, provided it is the same species and has the same flowering period as that of the female cultivar._ _  
_Ohio State University Agricultural Extension Research, Annual Reports and Research Reviews 2002, Ornamental Plants, Circular 189

 _"[The Trees] drank very little wine, and it made the Hollies quite talkative."_ Prince Caspian, Chapter XV

* * *

 

Year 7 of the Golden Age and the same day as Chapter 5, _The Cheetah Guard of the High King_

* * *

_Well, this was not so bad._

The late day sun poured through the full windows, baking the hall of the Tower Library nicely. There was a warming rug and cooling stone. A Dryad and a Faun – young and giggling – with rags and mops had thought to enter the Library, ostensibly to clean. One scowling growl and they scampered away.

If the King Edmund was not to be disturbed, his Guard (temporary) was not disturbed either.

There was an unwelcome disturbance. It did not smell of a disturbance. But, he heard the disturbance. Jalur roused from his doze and opened a suspicious eye. He did not see the disturbance.

Looking about he finally found the disturbance. A Crow was sitting outside on the ledge, rapping on the window with his beak. For a Mammal, it was hard to tell black Birds apart as they all looked black. He could tell the Bird was not Sallowpad. Jalur jumped up on to the window seat and pushed the window open with his nose. A breeze smelling of salt and the sea wafted in.

"You there! I'm Kangee. I've been trying to get King Edmund's attention, but he's hibernating like a Bear in there."

"I am his temporary Guard. What news?"

"Queen Lucy's ship is in the harbor. It's docking soon!"

"Thank you. I will tell him immediately." A thought occurred to Jalur.

"Kangee, do you know how many Humans are on the ship?"

The Bird cocked his head to the side. "Yes," he finally said, "I do. What's it to you?"

"Mrs. Furner and Mr. Hoberry would like to know that number. Would you tell them please?"

"Will I get a Shiny?"

"A what?"

"A Shiny!" the Crow croaked. "From King Edmund's box! All the Crows get them when do they things for him."

"They do?"

The Bird snapped his beak impudently, implying, _What cave have you been living in, Cat?_

His first instinct was to snap back at the Crow and drive him away with a few less tail feathers. Nor did he think it appropriate for a Crow to be making such demands upon King Edmund. On the other paw, Mr. Hoberry and Mrs. Furner would not get their warning of Queen Lucy's surprise, or perhaps, get something even worse. Also, the King _had_ rewarded Lady Willa that morning for her information. Perhaps this was similar.

"I do not know the Just King as well as you, as I am temporary." This courtesy was _very trying_. "However, you say it is customary for King Edmund to give Shinys for things such as this?"

"Pffbbbt! Of course it is."

"Very well. If you tell Mrs. Furner or Mr. Hoberry how many Humans are on the ship as I asked, I shall tell King Edmund of your service and I am certain they will as well. He _is_ the Just King and I feel he will reward you as would be his wont."

The Crow looked at him beadily. "You promise to tell him?"

"I do. And if I fail to tell him, and _you_ tell him of that failure, he will certainly reprimand me for the dereliction in duty."

"Very well." With a shake of his feathers, Kangee launched himself out the window, flapped around the rampart and circled down toward the kitchens.

"With a welcome banquet tonight, I hope he does not harass Cook."

Jalur spun around. "Good afternoon, King Edmund! I was just coming to wake you."

"Thank you." The King still looked groggy and rumpled. He rubbed his face. "You handled Kangee well. That was Kangee, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"I _would_ give him a Shiny for that service."

"Shinys are?"

King Edmund tilted his head back into the Library. "I keep a box of pretty and sparkly things for the Crows – wires, rocks, bits from the Smithy. A Crow gets one from King Edmund for services rendered." He walked into the hall and peered out the window, studying the fine view of the Palace grounds, and the paths winding down to the docks. Jalur could see that Narnians were milling about, slowly making their way to where the _Splendor Hyaline_ would berth.

Below them, Queen Susan walked from the Palace, Lambert by her side. At a word from the Wolf, she turned back around and looked up to their window. She waved and smiled.

King Edmund waved back.

"You did hear Kangee say that the Queen Lucy's ship is arriving?"

Through a nodding yawn, the King said, "In substantial part, yes. I am much easier seeing them home, and am anxious to interview Captain Nanshe and her crew and to speak with Lucy."

"About the shadow ship?"

"Yes, it is the …" King Edmund's voice trailed away as the bow of the _Splendor Hyaline_ rounded the curve and sailed into view.

Flicking an ear, Jalur caught strange sounds drifting into the room on the breeze. _Music?_

"Well that is not something one sees every day," King Edmund mused, smiling. "Even in Narnia."

From their vantage, they could see ropes being flung to shore to be caught and secured by strong Centaurs and oxen who would help guide the ship to the dock.

The Gryphons, who had flown out to the ship for added security, were circling around the mast, long gray streamers dangling from their talons – Jalur saw the streamers as gray, but they were probably some color more pleasing to Humans and Birds. The Faun archers who had flown out with the Gryphons now swung from the ship rigging, playing merrily on fluting pipes.

On the deck, Queen Lucy, Humans, and Narnian crew stood at the railing, waving madly to those cheering for them on shore.

"Jalur?" the King asked.

"Yes, your Majesty?"

"Does it appear to you that each good being aboard the _Splendor Hyaline_ with a limb capable of grasping has _a bottle_ in hand?"

* * *

_It was loud._

_Very loud._

_Very, very loud._

It was loud before the Fauns started playing.

It became louder still once they started playing.

The noise grew ever louder when the singing began. _The Dim-Witted Bard_ was very popular, so popular Jalur recalled, regrettably, hearing it on long marches with the Army.

_Now High King Peter had troubles of his own_   
_He had a dim Bard who wouldn't leave his home_   
_He tried and he tried to send him away_   
_So, he sold him to Archenland the very next day_

_King Lune said that he'd shoot that Bard on sight_   
_So he loaded a bow and set his arrow alight_   
_He waited and he waited for that Bard to come 'round,_   
_Ash of Lune's castle was all that they found..._

That was before the percussion of tin plate banging and table pounding.

First, there was dinner. It had been noisy during dinner, but not loud. It smelled pleasant, if one preferred cooked food, which Jalur did not. There were a lot _bodies_ : native Narnians; the ship's complement, none of whom Jalur knew by smell or sight; and more Humans than he had ever seen in one place – Queen Lucy and her _six_ Galman guests, Queen Susan, and King Edmund. There was a lot of talking. And a lot of laughing. Wine skins and bottles were in perpetual motion up and down the table.

Jalur did notice at the evening's beginning when King Edmund pulled Mr. Hoberry aside and, contrary to the requests of the morning, arrangements were shuffled and the King was now seated among the Galmans. He wondered if it was because the High King continued to be absent and so King Edmund was assisting as he had assured the Queen Susan, or whether it was because, in his "inconstancy," he was actually enjoying the company.

To his horror, Jalur learned that after eating, the Narnians and the Galmans did _not_ do what any civilized Cat would do - that is, wash your face and take a nap.

Instead, the whole dining party moved to the Great Hall and Faun musicians arrived, along with Dryads, Moles, Dogs, two Horses, and a Moose. There might have been others, but really, it was overwhelming enough tracking where King Edmund was and with whom he was speaking.

Giving up on trying to circle the Great Hall, Jalur thought he might be better served following the lead of the other Guards. So, he sidled along a wall closer to Briony and Lambert. The Wolf pair were lounging together, Briony's head across Lambert's back. He wanted to think they were being insufficiently vigilant, but could not, in faith justify it. They had both guarded well for years. Briony's success was particularly grating as she had become Guard to Queen Lucy when he had himself proven unsuited to the task.

Briony sat up as he approached. Fortunately, he could hear her well enough over the din. "Try not to concern yourself over much, Jalur. It does you credit, but our Monarchs are at ease."

The whole of the group, Galmans, the Queens, King Edmund, Dryads, Fauns and others (who had some compatible limb) were grabbing one another and twirling about the room in time to the music.

"It is dancing," Briony told him.

Jalur felt the fool and so growled. He had heard the term before but never seen it. He decided he did not like the phenomenon at all. With all the running about and changing from one sparring partner to the next, it was impossible to detect a threat. There could be a knife aimed at the heart and one would never see it until it was too late.

The risks here were far greater than anything he had seen thus far and Jalur thought just stopping it altogether would be sensible. Ending the dancing would have the added benefit of being quieter.

"Did King Edmund introduce you to our guests?" Briony asked, speaking into his ear.

"Yes," he grumbled.

"How did they smell?"

"Dirt. They smelled like dirt, and fruit, and salty like the sea."

"Exactly," Briony said in his ear. "Be at peace, Friend. It will be well."

"So say you," he muttered irritably.

"Yes," the She-Wolf said firmly. She went so far as to butt his shoulder with her head. "So say I. I have been with these good people for a ten-day, have observed them closely, and they pose no threat, Jalur."

"You _are_ right generally to be wary during such events," Lambert said. "Guarding is more difficult and our Monarchs can be more vulnerable, especially if they drink wine."

"And especially when my Valiant Queen drinks wine," Briony said, wagging her tail fondly. "You are also right to question their judgment in these settings for it can be suspect. For tonight, though, you may trust my judgment until you learn to evaluate these events better."

"I am temporary!" he snapped.

"Of course you are," Briony agreed amiably.

"The High King comes!" Lambert broke in, looking toward the doors of the Great Hall that lead to the foyer. "Jalur! Quickly, go tell King Edmund!" A moment later, Jalur, too, caught the scent of Human Male and Wrasse.

"Why…"

Briony butted him again with her head. "The Kings have not spoken today and will wish to do so! Go! This is your duty!"

_Runner and messenger? What about Messenger was encompassed in the succinct job description, Eat Threats To Monarch?_

King Edmund was, fortunately, not cavorting like the other fools, but was at the table with the wine skins, singing along.

_He gave him to a Knight, to use him for a pell_   
_Saying "Beat him smartly, I wanna hear him yell!"_   
_The Knight armored up, and sharpened his sword_   
_No one's heard again of that Knightly lord..._

"What news, Friend?"

Jalur was gratified that as inconstant as the King was, he was still alert and acting normally, for the moment.

"The High King has returned."

In the hesitation in which Jalur tried to devise a reason for his intrusion, King Edmund pushed himself from the side of the table, swinging a wine skin. "Excellent! Thank you for your attention!"

Hurrying to stay pace with his quickly moving charge, Jalur chased King Edmund out of the Great Hall. They caught up with the High King as he emerged from the servants' wing, Wrasse trailing behind him.

"Peter! What are you doing here?" King Edmund grabbed his brother by the elbow and propelled him back into the more secluded empty cloakroom. "You have the evening off!"

The High King raised his shoulders in a shrug. "I was not going to spend the whole night in the Tree with Dalia and the Cubs."

Something seemed very amiss with the High King. There had been inklings of this all day, and now seeing it himself, Jalur could understand the concern, even if he had no idea of its cause.

Jalur looked askance at Wrasse, for surely she must sense this as well. The other Cat glanced over, awarding him an indirect, impassive look. She quietly withdrew a few steps and settled on her haunches.

 _How could I ever hope to understand these situations?_ Jalur felt anxious. _True Guards all know what to do!_ Swallowing his inadequacy, he mimicked Wrasse's behavior, withdrew and sat.

"Peter? What ails you?" King Edmund asked, speaking so softly, Jalur had to strain to hear it.

"You know the causes, Edmund," the High King snapped. "Must I repeat my failures for you? _In public_?"

"Of course not. I only had thought seeing Dalia and the Cubs would cheer you."

"It has. She is doing wonderfully well. It was a delight to see them all."

The words sounded well enough, but they did not fit what Jalur sensed. Did King Edmund hear the angry tension in the High King as he did?

"And now it is time I did my duty as host…" the High King began, sounding to Jalur's ear, abrupt and even unhappy. It seemed nothing was more distasteful to the High King at that moment. Jalur suddenly felt very much an intruder; this was a personal moment between the Kings he would not have wanted to witness.

The High King made to pass his brother and push on to the Great Hall.

"Nonsense!" King Edmund said, putting a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "There is no need at all, Peter. We have it well under control!"

"Oh?" the High King asked, swiveling about. "So I do not need to worry about a trade embargo with Galma after an evening's entertainment of her delegation in Our home?" He tilted his head in the direction of the Great Hall. "Though, given the noise, I suppose my consolation is that none could take offense as none would be able to _hear_ it."

At that moment, one of the impolitic parts of _The_ _Dim-Witted Bard_ rocked the walls.

_They sent him to the Tisroc to have a little feast_   
_Kill him off with drugged wine, use poison at least_   
_He drank barrels of poisoned wine that day_   
_And now the Calormenes have all...passed away..._

King Edmund tugged his ear. "Yes, there is that. Regardless, there is no risk of such an incident. Our guests are Galmans, true, but not diplomats."

"Merchants, then," the High King said, through an angry, clenching jaw.

"No, they are here in no official capacity at all."

"Truly?" The High King relaxed slightly, Jalur thought. "Come to think, they do seem louder than the typical diplomat _or_ merchant."

"Louder indeed and far merrier. _Farmers_ , brother. Lucy brought us _farmers_."

"Farmers?" the High King repeated.

On cue, the chorus began,

 _He went to a farmer, to sing pigs to sleep_  
 _If he sang to the swine, there'd be not a peep_  
 _He serenaded the pigs, made boar and sow cry_  
The next day alas, the pigs had all died

"And not just any farmer… here, taste this." King Edmund pushed the wine skin dangling from his hand toward his brother. "Proof is in the pudding, as Cook would say." King Edmund looked about, but did not find for what he searched in the cloakroom. "Oh bother, forget the glass; just drink it right from the skin."

King Peter looked at the nearly limp skin offered with some doubt.

"Go on!" King Edmund urged, shoving the wine skin at him again. "It's not poison for Lion's sake. Susan had the Hounds in it earlier."

Taking the skin, the High King took a very cautious sip – and brightened.

"That is rather good." He took another. "Very good, actually." King Edmund tried to take it back, but the High King was not quite willing to relinquish the wine skin and took another sip. "This is not one of our wines."

"Our guests brought it – _crates of it_ – skins, bottles, and casks of wine, and vine cuttings as well."

"Lucy invited farmers bearing wine?" The High King took another, deeper drink. Jalur thought his countenance had cheered, though now he seemed regretful about the near empty skin.

"Lucy invited _winemakers_ , a Master Vintner from the Galma Winemakers Guild and five of his apprentices."

"I say, that does sound a cut above the usual. By the Lion, why did they come here?" The High King tilted the skin back and drank it dry. "Apart from Lucy extending the invitation to anyone she meets who makes her laugh?"

"Why do you think? They want to talk to our Trees and Moles, and the Faun winemakers. They want to plant cuttings and look for Pomona and Bacchus."

King Edmund gave his brother a rough shove. "So, truly, we have it well in hand and there is no reason why you need to be here at all. No diplomatic incident will ensue tonight. Go to your rooms, do High Kingly things, and I shall handle this odious entertainment myself."

King Edmund made to turn about but the High King now put a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder. "Hold another moment, Edmund. Just what about this odious entertainment do you wish me to avoid?"

"Nothing, of course. I only wish you a peaceful evening without any bothersome hosting duties."

"Of course. Speaking of bothersome hosting, of those five apprentices, how many are women?"

When King Edmund hesitated for so long, Jalur wondered if perhaps he had forgotten. "There are three Galman women, High King."

The High King nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Jalur. And so, my brother, of these three Galman women winemakers, how many are good company?"

"Three."

"And, how many glasses has Lucy had?"

King Edmund waved a casual hand. "One or two, at most."

The High King waited, an eyebrow arched.

"Three."

Another pause.

"Well, perhaps five."

The song erupted from the Great Hall to the beat of pounding on the tables and a wail of Faun pipes. Jalur winced.

_The King sent the Bard to the Winemaker_   
_Kill him, he asked, there's no other taker_   
_Drown him they would, gave it the best they had_   
_Alas for the maker, the wine all went bad_

"And anything else?" the High King prompted, a little more loudly over the din.

"There is a fair amount of kissing going on, but I am sure you would not be interested in that."

"Kissing? In Our Great Hall? With and among our farmer guests?"

"Yes, you see the winemakers store their wine in wooden casks. As a consequence, they are, horticulturally speaking, very interested in what flavor wood imparts to the wine. So, they are…"

"Kissing the Dryads."

"Who are of course kissing back. Quite enthusiastically too. There is a far bit of _tasting_ occurring during the kissing as well, which is only to be expected."

The High King sighed, and Jalur sensed both humor and a certain exasperation. "Edmund, sometimes our guests are unaccustomed to our good Dryads' liberal and indiscriminate proclivities?"

"Not so far," King Edmund said cheerfully. "The Galmans seem quite prepared to sway as the Dryads do, as the saying goes. They _are_ farmers and it is all in the interest of furthering a more intimate knowledge of horticulture. They are fascinated by the prospect of the Dryads dropping their leaves, come full Autumn…"

A high pitched giggle burst out above the singing.

"Oh Aslan! Edmund is that…"

"The Hollies, yes, I fear so."

"You let them get into the wine!"

"Ermmm, well I did warn the Galmans, but they felt badly the Hollies were only drinking the loam."

"I know _you_ could not help yourself, brother, but Susan would know better…"

"Our Gentle sister has been absent for a bit."

Another arched eyebrow.

"She wanted to show the Master Vintner our wine cellars. Come to think on it, they have been down there a long time. Perhaps you should go check on them, rather than attending to unpleasant hosting duties in the Great Hall?"

 _Queen Susan has been absent?_ Jalur was certain King Edmund was mistaken. Queen Susan had been in the Hall the whole of the evening and had certainly not disappeared anywhere with the Master Vintner, whom Briony had said was an old, kind, and very cheerful person. Jalur thought the man laughed too much. However, he did not state the correction, for he did not want to embarrass King Edmund in front of his brother.

"I leave such matters to Lambert, as he is both the better judge and makes his objections known more forcefully than I. To that point, what do our good Wolves say on this?"

"He and Briony say the farmers smell of good, clean dirt and neither has any objection at all."

"So the Wolves say?" the High King asked.

"They do."

"Good Tiger," the High King asked. "What say you?"

"The Galmans smell of dirt, High King. They _are_ _very_ loud."

The High King had to pause as they were drowned out by the Cook chorus, a Narnian addition to _The Dim-Witted Bard_.

_They gave him to Cook, to work him to the bone_   
_Make him wash dishes, never to come home_   
_Chained him to the scullery, Cook stacked the dishes up mean_   
_She was ne'er seen again, but at least...the kitchen is clean..._

"Thank you, Jalur, for that information," the High King said, so courteously Jalur rumbled with pleasure. "I thank you also for seeing to my brother who you might observe occasionally suffers from an excess of personality."

"You are welcome High King." Jalur was not quite sure what the High King meant about that last part.

"And speaking of loud singing, Winkler is here," King Edmund added.

Jalur thought the High King paled. "Has he tried to teach that reprehensible song?"

"Not yet, but the Galmans have been clamoring our good Moose for some saucier fare."

The High King sighed in something like resignation. "Edmund, in good conscience I cannot let you solider on out there alone."

King Edmund threw up his hands. "If you insist, my King."

"I do." King Peter handed the skin back to King Edmund and gestured expansively. "Shall we see to our guests then?"

"I shall be along in a moment. I want a word with Jalur before the change to the Night Guard."

With a nod, the High King strode toward the Great Hall, Wrasse silently trailing.

Now Jalur knew to wait. There was a swell of noise, likely as the High King entered the Great Hall. King Edmund sighed and shifted the empty wine skin between his hands.

"You are …" Jalur stumbled over the word, "pleased?"

"I am. I am concerned for Peter, of course, but…" The King seemed to catch himself. "And what of you, Friend? Have you had enough of society for the day?"

_For the month. For the year._

The scent of Hunfrid, the great Bear, and Otieno, the Leopard he had trounced on the training ground, drifted into the cloakroom.

"The Night Guard has arrived, King Edmund."

"Excellent! Thank you, Jalur. You are excused for the evening."

Nevertheless, out of habit, Jalur followed the King into the foyer. The strains of _The Dim–Witted Bard_ were ringing out and King Edmund was already singing along. He sauntered back into the Great Hall, Bear and Leopard following in his wake.

_The Bard went to a Dryad, an apprentice to be_   
_To teach him silent arts like calligraphy_   
_Teaching him to read and write was her last mistake_   
_Reading his music the Dryad could not take..._

The enthusiasm peaked, with voices rising louder and higher. It was the subject, Jalur supposed wearily, and the presence of the High King.

_They gave him to a Galman, to drink the Bard dead_   
_The Galman took the challenge, "I'll drown him," he said._   
_He matched him drink for drink, the match went on for days_   
_The King knew his error when the innkeeper asked, "Who's gonna pay?"_

* * *

Jalur could not settle. He had returned to the Tree, intending to sleep and, at deep night sneak down to the Pond for some Otter baiting. Having had the drills in the training yard, a swim, and a nap, he was not fatigued at all. If he had stayed all night for that infernal carousing he would have been in a state, but that was the business of the Night Guard, not his. He was still uneasy about the Galmans but knew he was not being rational. Briony had been sanguine and he would have to trust that judgment. Still, he had to wonder at the Night Guard's competence – while Hunfrid was probably adequate, he had so thoroughly and easily thrashed Otieno, Jalur doubted the Leopard was up to the task of Guarding King Edmund's safety.

So, as night turned later, he felt curiously restless and was trying to ignore the impulse within that wanted to discuss the day's many events with someone else. He tried to ignore it, reminding himself of how much he had already spoken today. The desire for more interaction was certainly not a normal state for a Great Cat. If it persisted, perhaps he should seek the Physician.

How difficult was it for a Cat to be Guard? Dalia, the High King's Guard, now on maternity, was here even within the Tree. But, the mother would not welcome a huge, male Tiger coming to see her and her young Cubs. Inquiring in the Tree's very small common area (Felines did not wish to associate with another so there was no need for a large gathering space), Bastet, the old Tigress, told him that Wrasse would not be returning that evening but would be at the Palace to fill the Night Guard complement.

Jalur left the Tree. He passed an unusually gregarious Ocelot and the Cheetah brothers Captain Roblang had mentioned who were chasing each other's tails. Jalur ignored them. This was precisely the type of society he did not wish for.

Wandering about in the crisp Autumn night, Jalur tried to sort through these strange thoughts. Thinking he heard voices and Faun music on the path to the Pond, he abandoned his search for tasty Otter chew toys. The Fauns must have left the Palace and were now continuing their festivities elsewhere. _Fauns. They never slept. They were the definitive Narnian Party Animal_.

It would be several days later, after discussing it with King Edmund, that Jalur realized it was impossible for him to have not sensed the cat before he nearly stepped on it.

It was a common, dumb cat, sitting on the secluded trail that, had he had taken it as intended, would have led him on a familiar, lonely circuit north, toward the deeper woods, then down the cliffs to the Sea. The cat was licking its paw. It looked up at him with hugely luminescent golden eyes and meowed at him.

"What?" Jalur demanded irritably.

The cat meowed again and returned to licking its paw.

A simple, lowly, dumb cat. And Jalur felt no sense of the innate superiority of his kind he would have expected. Instead, a nagging feeling plagued him – a sense that perhaps he was lacking. Dwarf, Wolf, Faun, Hound, Leopard, Bear, and Cheetah had all given their daily presence to the Monarchs and yet he had not thought he would. That he could. He was the largest Feline in all of Narnia save the Lion, and these others did what he had been certain he could not.

"I am no better than you, dumb cat," the Tiger said.

The cat did not disagree, which made Jalur perversely feel a bit better about his inadequacy. The cat meowed and stood. For no reason other than self-loathing, and again that faint desire for some company (though preferably company that squealed when he bit into it) Jalur followed the cat toward the Palace. No singing was issuing from the Great Hall, so perhaps the party had moved out of doors with the Fauns or everyone had sensibly gone to bed. The cat trotted quickly ahead up the front steps, and Jalur had to hurry to keep up. By the time he entered the foyer, the cat was already up the stairs - _that led to the Guests' quarters and the Monarchs' private wing._

It was only a dumb cat. Surely it posed no risk. There was a Night Guard. Still, with all the activity of the Galmans, the singing, and the drinking, the Guard might be distracted, or dealing with drunken guests. Jalur hurried up the stairs just as he saw the cat's tail whisk around the corner, toward the private rooms of the Kings and Queens.

Recalling Mr. Hoberry's strident warning of the vanishingly small number of beings permitted in the Monarchs' sacrosanct space, the only thing Jalur could think, and angrily, was that a dumb cat was _not on that very exclusive list_. He plunged into the dim hall, hurrying after the cat. Through scent and as his eyes dilated to take in every scrap of light in the near darkness, he perceived Wrasse emerging from a corner, Hunfrid, further down the hall, and beyond the Bear, Otieno, the male Leopard.

The cat had disappeared.

"Jalur!" Wrasse hissed, startled, fur rising on her back. "What are you doing here?"

"A cat," he muttered, casting about in the darkness, sniffing, eyes darting into the recesses of the space, ears twisting to catch every sound. "I'm looking for a cat that ran this way."

"You have found a Cat, but I am not running," Wrasse retorted impatiently.

"A dumb cat, it came here, I..." Jalur swiveled his ears toward the faint sounds he heard from down the hall toward the Monarchs' rooms. It was not loud, but to Feline hearing, it … "What is that noise?"

Hunfrid lumbered out of the darkness, huge and stinking. "Get out, Tiger!" the Brown Bear snarled viciously.

"But, Wrasse!" Jalur cried. He pricked his ears and inhaled deeply, certain now and his alarm deepened. _Did they not sense it? They must!_ The Panther pushed him with her head and body, forcing him backward.

"This is not your business!" Hunfrid growled. "Get out!"

"Peace, Hunfrid," Wrasse said firmly. "I shall see to this."

She shoved him again. "Come, Jalur. Hunfrid is right. Until you take the Guard's Oath, you should not be here."

"But, there is someone else there, another with …"

"Yes," Wrasse interrupted, "I know."

"But, Mr. Hoberry said no one else was permitted. That was why I chased the cat."

"There is no cat but us and Otieno."

Wrasse unceremoniously crowded him backward and he had to retreat, or fight. Jalur allowed her to push him away from the Monarchs' rooms. "One proviso Mr. Hoberry would not tell you of, because it was neither your concern, nor his province to say, is that a personal guest in the company of a King or Queen may be permitted into the private wing, at the Guard's discretion."

With another shove from Wrasse, Jalur acceded to her persistence and allowed her to crowd him back down the stair and the peculiar sounds faded.

"You stumbled upon a courtship ritual," Wrasse explained as they descended to the foyer.

" _What?_ " Jalur stopped at the bottom tread and turned back to look up the staircase. " _Courtship?"_ he repeated, dumbfounded. _Now? Here? How?_ _Had there been a Human rut or heat and I missed it?_ Admittedly, his knowledge was exclusively Feline, but these things did not come on so suddenly in experience.

"This has been a very strange day, Wrasse." He had followed a cat and ended up in the middle of something as alien to a Feline as a Canine. "I do not understand this at all."

"But if you are temporary only, why is understanding necessary?" she asked, in part reasonable, but also slyly.

"Ignorance is ill, regardless," he said primly, unwilling to yet admit to the Panther that he was reconsidering that "temporary" designation.

"In this regard, Jalur, ignorance is required, save for those who _must_ know more of Human behavior to protect our Monarchs." Wrasse crowded him again, herding him toward the servants' wing. "Explaining it is beyond my ken." They were near the Palace staff offices where he had begun the day.

They both had to huddle against the walls as a pair of Dryads hurried by, carrying glasses, wine skins and bottles toward the scullery. There were sound of washing and talking – the night staff cleaning up after the party.

"Where are we going?" he asked as Wrasse gave him another nudge.

"The Physician. He has a presentation on the subject of Primate courtship that is mandatory for all Guards."

"I did not know that his kind are nocturnal. Surely this is inconvenient for him." 

"Oh, he will be awake. He will happily enlighten you on this subject even if he were asleep."

Wrasse sounded weary of the Physician and Jalur wondered if the Panther was inflicting Cat-like revenge for his inappropriate curiosity No one ever wanted to be with the Physician. It was usually very painful.

"He has studied Primates near the Cauldron Pool for several years now," she continued. "He has considerable passion for the subject." Wrasse sighed. " _Considerable passion._ "

"Well perhaps tomorrow…" Jalur was coming to think that his briefing by the Physician was to be a ghastly event, and that assumed it would not also be physically painful.

"No, Jalur," Wrasse replied, stopping at the Physician's door. "You tumbled unknowingly into this and now you must learn the protocol. It is for the best if you are briefed on these particulars even if I am not at liberty to explain why. This is highly secretive. It is never discussed outside the Guard; this is why Hunfrid was so hostile."

Wrasse extended a claw and pinged the bell on the Physician's door.

"But…" Jalur stammered, wildly hoping to somehow slink out of this trial.

She shoved him again, pushing him toward the opening door as a wizened and decrepit voice croaked, "Enter!"

Jalur shot Wrasse a pleading look. "You are not coming?"

"On no. I helped write the protocol, you see. And," she paused, and there was no mistaking the Catty smugness, "I have heard it _many_ times before."

* * *

The _last_ chapter, _**Subject, Soldier, Guard** ,_ in which oaths are taken, follows. 

* * *

If you want to know of the reprehensible Moose Song to which Peter refers, you will have to read Chapter 5 of _The Queen Susan in Tashbaan_. _The Dim-Witted Bard_ is adapted from the excellent Lord Gyric of Otershaghe's Bawdy Song Book website, my go-to place for inappropriate song lyrics.

 


	9. Subject, Soldier, Guard

**The Palace Guard** **  
**Chapter 9 – Subject, Soldier, Guard** **

Year 7 of the Golden Age and the same day as Chapter 5, _The Cheetah Guard of the High King_

* * *

It was Lambert, not Wrasse, who was waiting when Jalur left the bizarre event some _significant_ time later. It felt to be _hours_. His distraction and mortification were so great Jalur did not even know when Wolf had replaced Panther during his long incarceration with the enthusiastic, persistent, and very prickly Physician.

"Jalur?" Lambert asked as the door shut behind him.

It took him a moment to register that the Wolf was concerned.

Unsteadily, he responded to the unstated worry, "I am well."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," Jalur managed, more firmly. He searched for the words, and found that though he had used or thought them several times today, it did seem to cover the whole of his experience. "Humans are very strange."

The Wolf nodded his head and there was a crease of humor in his somber demeanor. "They are, Friend."

"Why do they make simple things so very complicated?" Jalur huffed, feeling uncommonly frustrated _with all this bother_.

"They do not perceive as we do and it leads to much misunderstanding."

Lambert's suspicious hostility of earlier was gone, and Jalur felt strangely, well, comfortable was not the word. Two large predators would never be at ease with another. There was acceptance, as if Jalur had endured some further steps on the path to Guard, and the Wolf was acknowledging him as a peer.

The Wolf pointed his muzzle away, down the hall. "Wrasse needed to return to the Monarchs' wing. We both thought you might wish company to discuss the day, solitary though you are."

"Thank you," Jalur said. "I admit to being unsettled."

"Would you walk with me?"

"Yes."

He followed the Wolf back into the foyer, through the Great Hall to the Council Room beyond. "At this time of night, there is often activity in the servants' wing," the Wolf explained. Jalur could hear sounds in the dining room; the two Dryads of earlier were cleaning in the Great Hall. "I know it would be our preference to go outside, but it is difficult to assure privacy so close to the Palace."

Jalur knew the Council Room well. His failure as Guard to Queen Lucy had begun here. He wondered if Lambert intended this reminder. The Wolf pushed the door open with his nose and walked into the room; Jalur followed and Lambert shut the door again. He found himself mimicking the Wolf's searching behavior, sensing with nose, eyes, and ears for any disturbance.

Satisfied, Lambert sat on a rug that smelled greatly of him; a rug next to his smelled of Briony. The odor of Cheetah and Hound were also strong in the room. "Yes," Lambert said, tilting his head with a confirmatory nod toward a rug on the far side of the great council table, "that was where Merle would sit when King Edmund was here."

"May I ask you something, Wolf?"

"You may ask," Lambert replied.

"What bonding system do Humans follow? Wolves bond, Cats do not. What of Humans?"

"We have little to judge. Mostly we know of the behavior of Humans in other Courts than this. In my observation, there are cultural differences at work and it is not consistent."

Jalur grumbled. So not only were Human societies inconsistent, there was also significant variability within individuals. _King Edmund the Inconstant_.

"The Physician said Humans engage in mating without intending offspring, and even if they are not in season or rut."

"Humans are known to do so, yes," Lambert replied carefully. Jalur had the sense the Wolf was weighing every word. "It is common in Primates and some other Beasts. Such matters are best addressed to an adult Human, not another Beast. "

Jalur growled his aggravation at the Physician's impossible long winded theorizing.

"Indeed," Lambert replied.  "In my judgment, the Physician's enthusiasm for the subject outmatches his knowledge."

"The Physician said Humans mate for entertainment. Surely that cannot be so."

Lambert awarded him a long, bland look, though Jalur did sense some minor annoyance. "Further commentary of that nature _could_ _potentially_ implicate private matters in the future. I decline to discuss the issue any further with you."

Jalur swiveled his back ears and withdrew slightly in apology, remembering the strict injunctions of privacy. On that, the Physician had been painfully clear and had reinforced Wrasse's warnings. "Forgive me. I did not consider how my questions might become impertinent."

The Wolf again stared at him steadily, eyes just askance to avoid the direct gaze that would signal a challenge. "As you have gathered, the matters of Rats and Crows would bring us into closer quarters, Jalur." With a sad sigh, Lambert concluded, "I mean no disrespect to Merle in saying you would be a change I would welcome should you become Guard."

"Rats and Crows," Jalur repeated. His anger of earlier returned, though less sharp. "You all spied upon me."

"Based even on the little you learned today, you understand why we must be sure of you?"

"Yes, but still I do not like it."

"Of course you do not like it," Lambert said, not responding to the anger but to the words. Undoubtedly, he had learned this from his Queen. "But Rats and Crows can be uncomfortable and if Guard to King Edmund you would know of it."

_Uncomfortable. Elusive. Confusing. Could anything be less like a Soldier's Order?_

"I understand if you cannot, but Lambert, can you tell me something of what occurred today?"

The Wolf paused, and Jalur felt himself searched, by eyes, nose, and ears. "Are you sincere in this? My instinct agrees with what Willa also said, that you do not ask for gossip."

Jalur snarled and Lambert arched an eyebrow, certainly not a Canine mannerism.

"Ask your questions, Tiger. If I may answer, I shall. Understand though that if I find you have gossiped, the repercussions will be severe."

Jalur managed to not growl too loudly.

"The splints. They were near the strong box on the floor and it deeply concerned King Edmund and Sallowpad. Why?"

The Wolf sighed. "So you begin with a thing of which I can say very little." He shifted his weight, let another pause string out. "Suffice to say that splints are part of a security measure and someone may have attempted to breach the locked strong box in the Library."

Jalur lashed his tail and a hiss rose, unbidden. "A theft?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps it was error by King Edmund himself. We do not know." 

 _We._ Jalur noted its inclusiveness. The Raven and the Rat were deeply involved in the secrets of King Edmund and, as the Wolf was, so too must be Queen Susan.

"These things are weighing on me, Lambert, and more than the private matters, which, while strange, are not sinister."

"They _should_ weigh upon you," the Wolf said simply. "Though it was not intended thus, you could not be unaffected by what you heard in our conference."

"Yes."

"As a former Soldier, I know of what I speak when I say that a Guard's province _is_ broader than that to which you are accustomed. As Soldier, you perform the orders given to you. As Guard, you come to share your Monarch's responsibility for all of Narnia."

Jalur rose to pace the space between the Wolf and the great conference table. He envied the composed dignity of Lambert, again a manner that was very reminiscent of the Queen he served. He would like to say that a Tiger was a more restless Beast, but could not. The Wolf had simply learned superior self-control and how to tamp down his natural inclinations in order to present an impassive public face.

He measured the distance in his pacing, scenting King Edmund's dead Hound everywhere in the room. "I admit the day has left me feeling very protective of King Edmund and dissatisfied with my limited role."

Lambert considered this then slowly responded. "It is unavoidable, loyal and intelligent Soldier that you are. You trust others. You must. But, as to King Edmund, you are finding you trust yourself more to protect him and his interests."

The Wolf was uncommonly perceptive for a Canine.

Jalur turned again to the empty places in the room, the corner Merle had occupied, and the one bearing the strong stamp of female Cat, Dalia, and then Wrasse on top of that. Would he add his own scent and presence here? _Could he?_

His questions were best directed to a Cat, yet Lambert was here. "You have observed Dalia in this position, Wolf. How difficult is it for a Feline?"

A Human would not have sensed it. He barely did, for Lambert's control over himself was so great. But, Jalur was certain the Wolf flinched.

"It _is_ difficult then?" Jalur pressed.

The Wolf did not answer right away, which was in itself a response. Jalur was a predator and a Cat and he could wait.

"I can say little, Jalur," the Wolf said. "These are deep matters of Guard business. It is Dalia's story and that of the High King, for a Guard's story is necessarily entwined with that of the Monarch served."

Again, the Cat waited.

"Dalia served for love of the High King alone." The phrasing made Jalur wonder if Dalia was not returning to Guard; he now knew better than to ask. The Wolf continued, "The High King is a very social Human. That forced society was against Dalia's natural inclination and very stressful for her."

Jalur sensed there was more the Wolf could say, but Lambert did not elaborate further.

"So it would not become easier," Jalur concluded.

"For a Cat, no, I do not believe so. The opposite in fact; I believe the stress of it would accumulate. Are you truly thinking seriously of becoming Guard, Jalur?"

He was a long time in answering. Yet, the Wolf was a patient predator as well.

"I do not know. My failure with Queen Lucy rankles still." Jalur looked about the Council Room remembering the day he had chased the Valiant Queen straight into a tree in his misguided efforts. He was disturbed to realize that all this time later he would likely still do the same thing and make the same mistakes. "Perhaps this is a second chance."

"Do not do this looking for redemption, Tiger." The Wolf spoke so sternly, Jalur shrank back instinctively with a hiss.

"Then perhaps I should abandon this effort." He did not feel sad about this, merely inadequate and humbled, seeing himself bettered by virtually every other Creature of Narnia who could do what he could not.

Lambert rose from his sitting position and stretched. "It is late and we should both to bed, Friend. You ask the right questions and unfortunately you also only know their answer."

"You have been very careful to not say whether I should or should not pursue this, Lambert."

"A Cat values the opinion of a Dog?" the Wolf asked dryly.

"I value the opinion of a loyal and distinguished Guard, who has long experience I do not."

"Thank you." The Wolf inclined his head in acknowledgement. He had picked up many Human mannerisms. "From you, that is a high praise and I value it."

Lambert continued. "Were this any other Monarch, I would strenuously oppose it, Jalur, for your sake and theirs. However, of all the Four, the King Edmund is the least consistently social. I have come to know him well and I would not be happy serving with him; nor would Briony. He is the most difficult of the Monarchs, and sometimes suffers, as the High King says, of an excess of personality. He has a brilliant and cunning mind and can also be taciturn, sullen and even rude."

Jalur felt his fur bristle.

"Already you defend him?"

"Yes."

"Then your decision may already be made. I intend no disrespect to an unquestionably great man. I merely point out that those things that make him an ill fit for me or my mate might make him suitable for you."

"Because I am taciturn and sullen, I would tolerate it as Guard." Jalur had not considered this before.

"It would be rude were I to say so, of course, but Feline may tolerate what Canine would not." With the wit displayed, Jalur wondered again just how much of his Queen's temperament the Wolf had absorbed. "Do have care, Jalur. It is counter to your nature, to how Aslan made you, and being Guard will come at cost."

_Do you think I should? Do you think I suit?_

He wanted to ask this. But, it was not in a Cat's nature to be so confiding. He would have to decide himself.

They left the Palace silently. It was finally quiet about them, most of the night staff off to their own beds. Lambert confidently led him through the forbidden kitchens, leaving Jalur to muse on the prerogative and assurance of the Guard. On the path to the Beasts' lodgings, Jalur suddenly spied the same glowing golden eyes of earlier that evening.

"Lambert!" he hissed, turning off the path toward the eyes blinking at him in the darkness. He could make out the cat's outlines. "Over there! It is the cat that I chased into the Palace!"

"Cat?" Lambert asked, stopping abruptly. The Wolf inhaled deeply and turned about toward where the cat crouched in the darkness, observing them warily.

"Yes! There!"

"I see," the Wolf said slowly. Yet, Jalur thought that the Wolf did not in fact perceive the cat – so much for the Wolf's vaunted sensitivity. "Wrasse said that you claimed you saw one sneak into the Monarchs' wing."

"I did not _claim_ anything," Jalur retorted with asperity. "I saw it and it's right there."

"You should follow it then," the Wolf said firmly.

"I shall." Jalur stalked toward it. "You are not coming?"

"No, Friend. I'm off to be with my Mate, however brief. This is your story, now."

With a chuff of annoyance, Jalur ignored the Wolf to follow the cat. The cat led him back toward the Palace, but not into it. Rather, it wove through the many winding paths and arbors of the gardens. He could never quite catch up to it, which was irritating. Following it through a stone arch, Jalur found he was back in the walled gardens adjacent to the kitchens. Jalur had not been in this garden since he had abandoned Queen Lucy in a tree to the better protection of Briony so many years ago. First the Council Room, and now here in this garden, he was revisiting the places of his past failure. The cat walked straight to the tree the Queen Lucy had climbed and walked around its trunk, rubbing against the rough bark, purring.

Tigers do not purr.

"Pleased that you remind me of weakness you are too dumb to comprehend, cat?"

The garden was so still, the cat's purring seemed overly, obscenely loud by comparison. There was a pond here and he had heard threats that Cook would cut the tails off any Beast that ate the goldfish in it – which of course, just increased the thrill of it for those so inclined. Fish were fine, but too easy. Jalur preferred Otter.

Hearing a scraping sound above, Jalur looked up. A light spilled from the doorway of a balcony overlooking the garden. Crouching, Jalur crept back into the shadow of the wall, not wishing to be seen lurking about the garden. He flicked his ears to listen; his eyes, hugely dilated, saw more at night than any Hound or Wolf. He heard above the sounds of someone coming outside on to the balcony. He recognized King Edmund immediately; the scent drifting down confirmed it a moment later. Other sounds from inside the Palace followed the King and drifted out into the night. With a gesture that at this distance Jalur could not interpret, the King shut the door on the noise, but remained standing on his balcony.

Jalur did not like this.

He presumed the Night Guard was out in the hall, separated from the King now by a room and two doors. True, those doors could not be locked and clumsy paws could open them but there was the distance itself to consider.

_And other things to consider as well._

There was the shadowing of the Queen Lucy's ship and the interviews to come with the crew. There were the winemaking Galmans, perhaps another set of Queen Lucy's merry friends, perhaps not. There was a closer re-examination of what had seemed at the time a random and ill-fated skirmish that had left Merle dead. There was his King's concern about the breaching of a strong box in the Library and whether there were scents in that room that should not have been there. Lambert had repeated again, in ways as subtle as a Cat, that Jalur's ill ease was not unfounded.

The code Rat, Crow, and Wolf had used was referring to these unsettling events. _Crow thinks Tinker Tailor may have scrumped the sound_.

_Something may be amiss in Cair Paravel._

Looking up to the balcony, Jalur felt his King was too exposed idling out at the stone rail. There were no obvious threats, true, but the threats he felt growing around them were not obvious either.

Lambert had said it best. Of course Jalur trusted Wrasse, Hunfrid, Otieno, and the other Good Beasts of the Royal Palace Guard and the Night Guard. But, where King Edmund was concerned, he trusted his own judgment more. In the shadow of the wall, under the guiding eye of a cat, Jalur settled himself, in sight of the King's window.

It was what a Cat did and what a Guard would do.

* * *

There were screams. There was no Otter taste, though, which was unfortunate.

There was more screaming and the sensation of something large and smelly landing on his head.

Jalur opened his eyes with a snarl and swatted at the smelly thing. It was … _a vegetable_? There were no vegetables in the Tree.

Another vegetable, equally stinking, sailed through the air. Jalur leaped into the air and batted it down, shredding it in his claws.

The shrieking was abruptly cut off with the sound of a door slamming.

 _Oh. I am not in the Tree. I am in the kitchen garden._ And the shrieking, vegetable hurling monster must be the formidable Cook.

"Ha!" said a familiar voice above. "Cook only hit him with one cabbage, not two. You owe me a Shiny, Harah!"

"Kangee, I'll wager you that and one more besides that there're lumps in the breads this morning," another voice, Harah presumably, cracked.

"I'll take that bet," Kangee said, "and raise you pits in the juice, leaves in the tea, and grounds in the coffee."

The two Crows in the tree branch above peered down at him. Jalur stretched, making certain his claws extended fully into the grass for the Crows to observe and yawned, exposing his fangs for full, intimidating effect.

"Why sleeping in the Garden, Sir Jalur?" Kangee asked.

_So, the Crow has learned my name._

"I fancied fish to go with the Otter I ate last night," Jalur said. "I understand Crow is delicious for breakfast."

The other Crow, Harah, glanced at the balcony above, then down to him, a shrewd look in her eye. "He spent the night camped under King Edmund's window, that's what. Back to the Roost, Kangee, and not a word, mind you. I need to place my bet on King Edmund's next Guard before the odds change!"

Harah flew off, Kangee scrambling after her, cawing insults about the wager on fouled breakfast.

Jalur shook himself thoroughly, scattering cabbage leaves. It might be early, but he would check in with Mrs. Furner and Mr. Hoberry's wall chart and wait for King Edmund's bell.

He decided not to go through the kitchens but would go the long way around. He could still hear screaming, though it wasn't about vicious Tigers, cabbages, and Crows.

Mr. Hoberry was in the cookbook room, scribbling notes on the wall. New rows had been added for the Galmans.

"Good morning, Jalur. Did you have a good evening?"

"Well enough," he grunted back at the Faun.

Jalur glanced at King Edmund's schedule, which so far included only the morning meeting with the ship's crew. Wanting to make some contribution he forced himself to say, "This afternoon, I will growl until King Edmund goes to the training yard."

"Thank you," Mr. Hoberry said, still writing. "I shall pass that along. Thank you also for giving us word of the Galmans. We had some redundant notification, but that's never a bad thing."

The Human complement of Cair Paravel had more than doubled overnight. Jalur felt sympathy for the Faun, but was unsure how to express it. "The Galmans," he began awkwardly.

"Yes?"

"Do you and Mrs. Furner need…?" Jalur trailed off helplessly.

The Faun paused in his wall writing. "Are you asking if Mrs. Furner and I require any assistance given the size of Queen Lucy's surprise?"

"Yes," Jalur said. _Simple yes and no questions were so much easier!_

"Thank you for asking. I admit, for your ears only, we would have preferred a smaller surprise. Mrs. Furner is out now in the Groves asking for Dryad support in the Guest Wing and kitchen. We will manage. We always do. I will say, however, that King Edmund does not usually concern himself with such domestic matters."

"No?"

"No," the Faun repeated.

In Jalur's estimation, the logistical demands of the Palace household were as complex as any Army campaign, admittedly with less killing of combatants. Though, Cook was pretty accurate with her cabbage tossing. He wondered if King Edmund or Queen Susan had ever tried recruiting Cook for a Giants' incursion.

"Well, if you need me to growl at King Edmund about something important, I will do so. If I think it important," Jalur added hastily.

Mr. Hoberry nodded, a gracious gesture, and there was real warmth in his manner. "Thank you, Friend." He began scribbling more notes about Queen Lucy's activities with the Galmans. "Is there anything from last night or this morning I should know about?"

Jalur appreciated Mr. Hoberry's direct questions; it made it easier to think of things to say in response to them. He thought over the events of the evening and deemed most of them not for the Faun; Mr. Hoberry either already knew or it was not his business.

"The Crows are wagering I'll be the King's Guard," he said. "And I startled Cook this morning."

"We heard the screaming," the Faun said blandly. "As for the Crows, that is to be expected. Mrs. Furner and I both learned some time ago to be very guarded around them and frankly they wager with no provocation at all."

Mr. Hoberry was transferring everything from the High King Peter's enumerated duties for the day to Queen Susan's row, adding an ever longer list of tasks to her Majesty's responsibilities while erasing all of those for the High King. _Giving the High King the day off?_

"There was also a dumb cat wandering about last night. I followed it into the kitchen garden."

Mr. Hoberry stopped writing and slowly faced him. "A dumb cat you say?"

"Yes. I chased it into the Palace as well, so we'd best be on the lookout for it."

The three bell signal rang.

Jalur turned to obey the summons.

"Jalur?"

He swiveled his head to look again at the Faun.

Mr. Hoberry was looking at him very solemnly, but kindly as well. "With all regard to Merle, and to your solitary nature, I do believe you would serve the King Edmund well in a permanent capacity."

"Think you?"

"I do. It would not be easy; I believe the society surrounding the High King has been very difficult for Dalia. King Edmund, however, is a very different man than his brother and the challenges, such as they are, would likely not arise from the social calendar. Once through his grief, I believe he would profit from your management."

"That is an odd way to put it," Jalur replied. He had been thinking only of whether being a Guard would suit him. He had not considered what advantage there might to the Monarch, other than obvious toothy protection of a bodyguard.

"The Guard offers far more than a Soldier's protection. What more that might be depends upon the individuals and..." The three bell signal sounded again. "There is your second summons." It was as if Mr. Hoberry could predict what would happen before it did, which Jalur supposed was a hallmark of such as skilled and competent housekeeper.

"Aslan walks with you, Friend," the Faun called as Jalur left the cookbook room.

"He said he wanted to see you in his rooms," Hunfrid grumbled. "So get on then. Then, I can get out."

"And good day to you, Bear," Jalur replied. Hunfrid was so irritable, Jalur wondered if he might be Feline rather than Ursine.

"See any more _cats_?" the Bear asked with a grunt.

"I did and it is no further concern of yours, Bear. Get to your den. The King is my responsibility, now."

Jalur felt himself daring and presumptuous, but this was what Dalia, Lambert or Briony would do, he was certain. He was Guard. He would assert the prerogatives.

He hesitated at King's door, unsure of the protocol to follow.

"Your Majesty?" he called.

"Come in, Jalur."

Jalur pushed the door open; there were no locks on Cair Paravel doors.

At the threshold, he was shocked into stillness. The King's private rooms were overwhelming. There were many, so many, strong and competing scents in so personal a space, he could not sort them. It was like the Tower Library, but far more intense. More than any other though, rising to the fore and covering all, the room smelled of the King and his dead Guard.

The room was not neat, but it was not the haphazard disorder of that cookbook storeroom either. Jalur's eyes were immediately drawn to a large, sloppy, soft-looking thing set on wood, piled with blankets.

"It is a Human bed," the King said, walking over from the balcony where he had been. "I have noticed most Beasts outside the Palace staff do not know what it is. Soldiers have only seen camp cots and bedrolls."

"A Human bed," Jalur repeated. This contraption was more elaborate than the soft, lined bowls, hollows, and nests of Good Beasts and Birds. Maybe this was more common for Humans and Near Humans; Centaurs he knew preferred straw.

"I have heard of them. It appears comfortable."

"I would offer to let you jump up upon it, but…"

The King's voice trailed off into the unspoken grief Jalur had felt before. It was difficult because it was never clear what might bring back the Merle's memory and the pain of it. Maybe loss was always like that for someone who felt it, just around the corner, unseen, but ever present, the way the Good Beasts understood one another without speaking, the way predator and prey communicated.

The King began straightening the twisted and bunched things on the bed in studied way, with more attention than the task seemed to demand.

"I understand you had an eventful night, Jalur."

This was confusing. What did the King think was eventful? Did he know that Jalur had loitered under the window? Or that the Night Guard had evicted him from the Monarchs' wing? Or how he had chased a dumb cat?

"Your lecture from the Physician?" the King prompted.

_Oh. That._

"It was lengthy," Jalur finally said.

With very keen interest, the King probed further. "Did he use the charts? The diagrams? I understand he has been after the Dwarfs to build scale models so that he might demonstrate behaviors."

There was a disturbing glint of reckless humor in the King's manner; Lambert and the High King had called it an _excess of personality_.

"The Queen Susan is opposed, but I may commission the models regardless."

Jalur turned this over in his mind. Slowly, he said, "I do not believe, your Majesty, that it is the mechanics of mating that is so confounding to a Good Beast."

"No? Do tell then?"

"To a Good Beast, mating is a simple thing that Humans apparently make needlessly complex. I had assumed Humans to be more rational."

The King emitted a most Tiger-like chuff. "That, Good Cat, is one of the many roles of the Guard, to remind us to be rational where our inclinations might lead us otherwise."

Jalur pondered the King's disclosure. "Yes, I can see the merit in that."

The King's hands, smoothing out the blankets, lingered at one end of the bed. Jalur sensed Merle's imprint was especially heavy in that place.

So, the Guard had shared a den with the King, as if they had been littermates? When the King had been a cub, _boy_ , Jalur corrected, Merle had been his companion. Like a brother? Though, the King had a brother.

 _Pet?_ Jalur was beginning to think that this was also something of what had been between the two, given that they had shared a bed. It further explained some of the censure for Merle he had encountered.

Observing his silent study, King Edmund said with a hint of anger, "I know what others said of Merle. The whole of the Palace, everyone, all said bluntly or secretly that he was not fit to be a King's Guard. You have heard this?"

Jalur did not think the question was really one intended for an answer.

"Tash take them all!" King Edmund's anger was now open, raw and painful. Jalur felt he was intruding on the King's mourning. "It was my decision and I was not going to overthrow a gallant Hound because he did not meet someone else's idea of royal sartorial splendor."

"Of course you would not," Jalur said firmly, surprising himself. He recalled what Master Roblang had said the lifetime of two days ago, what Mr. Hoberry had repeated and now he knew the truth of it. The bond between Guard and Monarch was deep and not understood by those who were not party to it. Had he not seen that in Lambert's own regard for Queen Susan?

King Edmund had understood his bond with Merle; Merle had understood his duty to his King. That was enough, and as King Edmund said, Tash take the rest.

The King looked at him quizzically, as surprised by Jalur's support as the Tiger was himself to offer it. "Do you know the ones who never criticized, Jalur?"

"No," the Tiger said, though he could guess, having already observed it.

"My brother and sisters, and their Guards never spoke ill of Merle. We all understand what it means to be that close to another. And of the many things that bind my brother, sisters, and I together, one of the most firm is how much we all _deplore_ others making decisions for us presumed to be for our own good."

The King turned away abruptly toward his balcony doors, to stare out into the gardens below and the trees beyond. "And so, Friend, I think it is time I end this game with you."

"Game?"

"I was determined to take my own Guard, in my own time, and I will not have one foisted upon me. I knew that if I asked for the most unsuitable Beast in all of Narnia, I would have some peace. When I was ready to select my Guard, everyone would be so relieved it was not Sir Jalur the Irascible, I would have my pick."

Jalur had sensed something peculiar yesterday, forces that were at work, pursuit of ends that were hidden. "It was a ploy."

"Yes. A gamble of sorts."

"With me as the wager," Jalur said.

"Yes, the King said. "For that, I ask your forgiveness. It was most wrong to try to use you so. I have too high a regard for you and cannot continue to countenance my deception."

Jalur considered this carefully. "I accept your apology," he announced. "I admire the strategy, however. It was sound."

The King gave bark of laughter. It sounded remarkably like a Hound. "I was using you, Sir Jalur. That is most unconscionable."

"Is it? You use me in combat for strategic purpose. Is this so different?"

The King laughed again. "You _are_ a Feline. I assure you, a Canine reaction would be different."

"I do not doubt that." To the point, however, "So are you saying you would not wish me as Guard? Have I displeased you?" Jalur did not think he felt disappointment; such an emotion was not one a Tiger would feel. He was curious and deflated.

"No, Friend. Not at all. I believe we suit, you and I, of a sort. But, you are a Great Cat and, even by the standards of that kind, as unsuited by temperament to Guard as any in all of Narnia."

"So you take the decision from me, and make it yourself, for my own good?"

The King became very still. "Well played, Jalur."

"Yes," the Cat said, "it was."

The King sighed. "Let us be honest with another. I did not believe you wished to be a Guard anymore than I wished to have one forced upon me before I was ready."

Jalur walked over to the King, inhaled deeply of the scent; let it settle in his mind. The King's hands hung limply at his side.

"I did not wish to be _a_ Guard," he finally said. Jalur pushed his nose against a dangling hand. It was not the demand of a dumb cat to an owner, but the gesture such as Good Beasts or Humans might exchange, friend to friend, brother to brother, mate to mate, as he had seen the King with his brother last night, and with Queen Lucy on her safe return.

"I may wish to be _your_ Guard, if you so will."

"May?" the King repeated.

"I admit to misgivings, King Edmund."

"You are right to have them, Friend." The King's hand moved briefly over Jalur's head. He returned the gesture Jalur had given, not as a stroke or a pat, but an acknowledgment of the contact and the connection. "None of us understood it fully when it began. The Guard swears his Oath to the Monarch, alone. It will bind us, both of us, on to death and beyond. It carries to the end of Narnia herself, and to Aslan's own country."

"Oh. _That_ ," Jalur said, dismissively.

"Do not take it lightly," the King warned.

"I do not. What concerns me more is you would have me attend parties and occasions to world's end. That would make me very irritable."

"It would make me irritable as well, good Tiger. I do enjoy society to a point, however, and that will require your occasional accommodation."

"For you, I could do that." Looking again at the bed that smelled so strongly of Merle, Jalur said slowly, "But, I cannot fill the empty place Merle has left. If you wish that intimacy, you will need another."

There was another, very heavy and sad sigh, and the King's blessing hand moved away. "I do not wish that, good Tiger. You are as different from Merle as two Beasts could be."

In the pause that followed, Jalur sensed that shift in mood he had observed before as the King moved from sad to caustic. "You are befitting Our _Most_ Royal Dignity."

"I am more mindful of your dignity than you are, King Edmund." Jalur growled. "You ask of my suitability to you, but I ask in return, will _you_ tolerate my management of yourself?" This was, he now understood, what Mr. Hoberry had implied.

"You would _dare_ criticize your Monarch?" King Edmund asked. He was mocking, but there was a serious and subtle undercurrent to his question as well.

"As subject or Soldier, no. As Guard, yes, I would."

"That is _not_ the typical role of the Guard," King Edmund countered crossly.

"Not with Merle, no. But, it would be with me. Also, can we really know of the bonds between your royal brother and sisters and their Guards? Their Guards would not discuss it with me."

Stillness settled once more on the Just King and the anger seeped away. "Well played, again. The regard and trust is obvious, of course, but the depth and contours of it, we do not really know, do we?"

Jalur did not answer. There was no need.

After a silence that became more comfortable as it lengthened, the King said, "Years ago, Aslan instructed me that I should knight you into my Order; Peter had intended to do so, but Aslan said he wished it of me.

So they had been on this road a long time, then. "The Great Lion sees all ends."

"He does. I, however, do not. I did not seek this, Jalur."

"Nor I."

"I fear it will change you, good Tiger."

"It will," Jalur agreed, "though I do not fear it. I fear more for you without me."

"You may change me."

"By Aslan's Grace, I hope so."

The King exhaled another chuff of laughter. Jalur preferred that to the bark that was too Canine in aspect. He heard a scratching and caught the whiff of Rat from the hall. "Lady Willa comes."

"Leave us a while longer, good Rat," the King called.

Jalur sensed her retreat.

"I will not ask you unless you are certain, Jalur. I will not have us bound to one another out of a Soldier's and subject's duty to his Liege."

In this, Jalur heard Edmund the Just, the King appointed and anointed by Aslan, severe and merciful, wise and subtle, brave and cunning. It was the voice of command and one he would obey loyally and to whatever end. But Guard was altogether different.

"Guard is beyond the bounds of mere Soldier or subject. I understand this and ask you, King Edmund, the same. Will you take me, in this world and beyond?"

They had stood, side by side, looking at the morning breaking over Narnia, out windows facing West. The King now turned to face him and knelt. Jalur was going to protest, but then realized this was part of the ceremony. For this, they would look upon one another.

"Do you know the Oath, my Friend?" the King asked, placing his hands on Jalur's head.

"No," Jalur said, rumbling with disappointment. "Should I go study it?"

"You may repeat it."

The King began, "I promise to never cause you harm and to protect you from all ill and danger."

"I give you loyalty with love, respect with fealty, and discretion with honour."

"I place my body, mind, and heart in service to you."

Jalur slowly repeated each line. In the pause that followed, Jalur felt the hands on his head tremble.

"You will do this?" King Edmund asked so softly that only the Tiger could hear. "Forever?"

"I will."

The Tiger repeated his King's words, "I swear this Guard's Oath before Aslan and in His Name, until you release me, until death takes you, or the world ends."

* * *

-End-

* * *

Yes, in Year 7, something is amiss in Cair Paravel. That is a story I tried to tackle as a fourth chapter of _Black as Rat and Crow_. The contemplated story, _Black, White, and the Gray In Between_ , is a brooding meditation to come and will be told eventually in _Apostolic Way_.

Thank you again,

Ruth

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Adventures of Spare Oom: the Tuition, the Rent, and the Centaurs in the Apartment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2706251) by [GwenTheTribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenTheTribble/pseuds/GwenTheTribble)




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